UGKMF2 Spinoff
by gleekinkfiller
Summary: Continuation/Expansion spinoff of UGKMF#2 story.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hi, ya'll. Yes, this is a spin off of the Untitled Glee Kink Meme Fill #2 (UGKMF#2). Warning: Contains scenes of rape.

**Author's Note: **I'm not an idiot, people. If I suddenly get 12 anon reviews in about the same amount of minutes on a story, I know it's just one person attempting to spam my review board. For the record, my policy on spam is this: I delete it. I don't care if it's a positive review or a negative one. If I suddenly get a flood of anon reviews with a very short period of time between them, I will delete _all_ of those reviews. You're welcome to leave a single review (or even two if there's character limits or something involved) on a chapter/story just like everyone else and I'll publish all of them, positive or negative. It's the spam I don't tolerate and, just in case the spammer is reading this: Sending a ton of messages pretending to be multiple people and begging me to continue a story will probably end up working to the opposite effect.

I'm sure some people will think I'm being snotty about this, but having to wade through all of the alerts FFN gives me via my iPod's wireless when I get spammed doesn't exactly leave me in a good mood.

* * *

People always say first time is the hardest.

Quinn supposed it was true as she sat in the plush waiting room. In a way, the first time _was_ the hardest. The problem was that there was far too many first times.

She remembered her first time ever having sex, for example. It was almost impossible to forget.

Her boyfriend at the time - Noah Puckerman, but he insisted everyone call him _Puck_ of all things - had been a heavy weight on top of her. His breath foggy with cheap beer and wine coolers as it'd flooded over her cheeks. He littered her face and neck with wet, sloppy kisses as she panted for breath, his free hand fumbling at her breasts before moving between her legs to push her skirt up and paw at her panties.

"Please," she'd whispered, trying to push him off, her heart hammering in her chest. "Please, Puck... I don't want to."

"Come on, babe," he'd said, reaching for another wine cooler. "Have another and relax. It'll feel good, trust me."

She'd whimpered and tried to push him off, her hands feeling frail against his muscular shoulders. "Puck, don't. Please."

The sound of the zipper of his jeans being lowered made her want to throw up even now. She'd squirmed under him, but his knee settled between her thighs as pushed her legs apart.

"Come on, babe. You're so beautiful. You can't make me keep waiting like this."

She never saw his member, only felt the pressure of his head against her lips as he guided himself in. She'd clenched her eyes shut, grimacing against the overwhelming feeling of being stretched - like a tampon but far worse. Something tore and she'd barely been able to choke back a sob as he'd pushed his way all the way in.

"See, babe," he'd panted, shoving up her shirt and bra to suck noisily at her breast as he'd pistoned his hips through her pain, drunkenly mistaking blood for arousal, "told ya it'd be good."

It hurt.

That was what she remembered best.

It hurt and no matter how much she asked, he wouldn't _stop_.

The handful of years between then and now had blurred how long it'd taken, but she remembered the feeling of him coming inside her, filling her channel to overflowing and spilling out to in a mix of blood and cum to slick her thighs and the bed under her. She remembered the look of disgust on his face when he'd realized she'd bled all over his groin and jeans.

"Shit, Q! You coulda told me it was that time of month!" He'd jumped off her, going to her bathroom to clean off and leaving her too shocked to even cry.

* * *

"Ms Lopez is just finishing up her meeting now." The woman - Santana's assistant, Quinn supposed - behind the desk's soft voice broke her free of her memories for a moment, but it was Quinn's handler, Sam, who nodded in acknowledgment. "It'll just be a few more minutes, I'm sure."

Quinn rubbed her face, trying to remember how she'd gotten to this point in her life.  
The two pink lines on the white test stick two missed periods later had been a definite starting point, that was certain. Puck was useless, blowing her off to hook up with a couple cheerleaders more willing to put out than she was with a parting shot about him being a "sex shark". That hadn't mattered as much as her father kicking her out when she couldn't hide her growing belly any longer.

She'd had to give up all of her after school activities and her grade point plummeted as she threw herself headlong into working whatever job would hire a sixteen year old mother who was still trying to go to school. She'd barely been able to make enough to afford a room over the local tire and lube, enough food for at least one meal and lunch at school each day, and trying desperately to make a dent at the steadily overwhelming medical bills for her Beth's birth. By senior year, she was exhausted, broke, teetering on the verge of eviction after a bout of childhood flu destroyed her meager savings, and unable to see a way out.

She was desperate.

The ad on the back page of the local free paper had seemed far too good to be true, but she didn't see how she had any other choice. Five years of her willing and unquestioning service in return for nearly two hundred _thousand_ dollars and help setting up a new life. It'd be enough to pay off her debt and set aside money for a _real_ future for her and Beth.

Leaving Beth in her sister's arms had been one of the most heart wrenching things she'd done in her life. The little two year old hadn't been able to understand why her mother was leaving her and had bawled and reached for her so piteously that Quinn's resolve had almost broken down as she'd gotten on the train for the city. Her heart shattered as she seen the figures of her sister and baby girl vanish in the distance as the train carried her away. She didn't think it'd be whole again until that sweet girl was in her arms again.

* * *

The sardonic blonde - wearing what looked for the world like a silk _tracksuit_ of all things - behind the desk probably should have been her first sign that things were going to be harder than she'd expected.

"So you're Fabray. You're late," she'd snapped, barely looking at her. "Sit."

Startled, Quinn had dropped down into the seat in front of the desk, her hands automatically clasping together on her lap. The woman's blue eyes had raked over her, taking in her white cardigan and pale yellow sundress and discarding them almost in the same instant. The entire process was belittling and made her feel distinctly uncomfortable.

"You'll do." The woman's voice had snapped her out of her discomfort and dragged her attention up to where a heavy sheaf of papers was being slapped onto her desk. "I presume my underlings aren't _completely_ incompetent and you've been informed of the nature of this firm before getting into my inner sanctum."

"Y-yes, ma'am," she'd stammered, looking back down at her hands to try and hide her anxious fear. Everything she'd been told had just made her more confused - that she'd be giving up her right to refuse any order no matter the source in return for room, board, full health care, her bills being taken care of and a fat bank account at the end of her service.

The woman's eyes had raked over her again before she snorted. "I doubt it or a prim and proper little thing like you wouldn't be sitting in front of her." Her pen slapped against the desk as she'd turned to face Quinn directly, folding her hands in front of her. "To put it simply, you'll be a whore for my company."

That got Quinn's attention, jerking her eyes up to meet the woman's. A slight smile creased the woman's strangely ageless features.

"Ah. A real reaction. Good. What you'll be doing when you sign this contract is, to put it simply, signing your body into our possession for no less than five years." She leaned back, watching Quinn. "We'll take care of your health, make sure you have clean clients, feed and house you, and when your contract term ends, release you with a fully established bank account and no questions asked."

Quinn swallowed harshly before nodding. "I... I understand."

"Oh, I doubt you do. I think you just need the money and don't see any other way to get it. And that's perfectly fine with me. I don't really care what your reasoning is. All I care about is that you will obey without question after signing this contract."

Her jaw clenched as she nodded. "Y-yes, ma'am. Whatever you want."

"No, my dear," the woman said, smirking at her again. "Whatever the _client_ wants. You'll belong to me, but those poor men who _rent_ you will rate you based on your agreeableness and my girls and boys are the most agreeable in the business."

"Yes, ma'am," Quinn whispered, feeling her heart shrivel as what she was agreeing to sank into her awareness. "W-whatever the client wants."

"Good girl," she'd said, picking up her pen again to peruse the contract. "Ah. I see you're fertile. Had a kid young. You don't look it. Good genes." The pen scratched against paper for a moment before the woman looked up at her again. "Would you be open to a long-term contract with a client if you're impregnated? This is the only question you get to have an opinion on, Ms Fabray, so think hard."

"I... I," she stammered, looking at the woman with wide eyes.

"You'll receive full health care, an additional hundred thousand, and the right to negotiate with the father for your place in the child's life should you want it for any pregnancy," she'd said almost off-handedly, those cold blue eyes back on the paperwork in front of her. "We don't allow abusive clients to take such contracts and if you opt out of this option, all methods of terminating the pregnancy will be made available both before and after the pregnancy is discovered. That's all standard for all of our girls."

"I... I couldn't kill my _baby_, ma'am!" Quinn's eyes were wide with horror at the idea.

A blonde brow arched high over a blue eye. "So you agree to long term contracts to carry your client's child? As opposed to abortion. Be aware that clients have the final say on whether or not you're allowed to have the child. If they don't want it..."

"I... Y-yes," she said quickly. "I'll take the long-term contract instead of t-terminating!"

The woman snorted again and pushed the contract across the desk before pulling out another sheet of paper and adding it to the stack. "Sign and initial in the marked places then."

Quinn's hand trembled as she'd leaned across to sign her name throughout the paperwork, signing herself over to the woman and her firm. When she finished, the woman took the pen back and gathered up the papers.

"Wonderful. Well, then, Fabray, you can call me Sue. Or Coach Sylvester. It's a favorite amongst my girls and boys," she'd said, standing up. "For the next five years, your pretty little ass belongs to me." She pointed at a door across the room from where Quinn had entered. "Go through there to be assigned your living quarters, handler, and meet your trainer."

"T-trainer?" she sounded surprised.

"Did I stutter? Get your ass in gear!"

Quinn scrambled to her feet and crossed the room in record time in the face of the angry blonde. Through the door, she found another office with a smirking man with curly brown hair and nothing else sitting sprawled in an office chair in the middle of the room with his legs spread exposing his erection.

"Hi there, Quinn. I see you've met my partner, Sue. I'm Will, but you can call me Mr Schue. I'm going to be your teacher from here out."


	2. Chapter 2

"Ms Lopez will see you now." The woman behind the reception desk broke her out of her thoughts again.

Quinn closed her eyes and placed a hand over her stomach before taking a deep breath to try and settle her nerves. When Sam placed a hand on her shoulder after picking up the suitcase he'd brought, she stood up to follow him through the impressive looking mahogany door behind the woman's desk into the brightly lit corner office with floor to ceiling windows on two of the three walls. The sight of Santana Lopez - her most confusing client - sitting behind the massive desk didn't help the butterflies doing waltzes in her stomach calm down at all.

"Come in and have a seat." Santana's cool voice washed over her, bringing renewed butterflies as she followed Sam in and sat in the chair beside his. "So... I've allegedly fathered a child."

"That's right, sir... uh, ma'am," Sam said, standing up again to set a manilla envelope on her desk. "The details are in there."

Santana picked up the envelope and pulled out a sheaf of papers, idly flipping through them, ignoring Quinn altogether. "And what guarantee do I have that the child is mine?"

"If you'll read page three, you'll see that the firm will pay for a prenatal paternity test of your choice at the earliest possible time," Sam explained, sitting back down in his chair. "I understand it'll be possible in just a couple weeks."

Santana shot Quinn a sharp look. "She's less than ten weeks pregnant?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I haven't had any bareback clients except you in the last six months," Quinn said softly, finally speaking up. "If you insist on a paternity test, I'd like to request an SNP instead of a CVS or amnio." A hand spread protectively over her stomach. "The invasive ones could hurt the baby."

She looked at her for a long moment. "And there's been no... _accidents_ with other potential... fathers since you were with me?"

Quinn shook her head. "No, ma'am."

"Firm policy is to wait ten weeks from a bareback client so two full series of tests can be run in addition to our quarterly annual testing before assigning the agent to another client," Sam explained. "We discovered she was pregnant during the second run of tests."

"And then your people called me," Santana mused, picking up her glasses off her desk to peruse the contract more in depth. "Explain to me what exactly this will entail," she said, tapping the contract in her hands.

Sam shrugged. "I'm no lawyer, but basically you'll be her only client until the baby's born and, if you want, for a while after for breast feeding and stuff if you want as well. In the end, you and her will talk about how much of a mom you want her to be, but the baby's yours."

She glanced at him over the top of her glasses. "Her only _client_? So should I assume this contract will involve," her eyes flicked to where Quinn was sitting and looking miserable, "_sexual_ favors as well?"

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Our agent will, for all reasonable intents and purposes, be yours until the birth of your baby. We _do_ insist that your remain respectful of our rules and do not hurt her in any way. If you break them, we will come after you. I'm not kidding. It's my job to keep her safe while she works for us and I take that really serious."

Santana raised a brow at him before turning her attention back to Quinn. "And you agree to this?" she asked almost softly, a tiny touch of tenderness apparent to the other girl from their night together.

Quinn risked a glance up, her hazel eyes meeting Santana's brown ones for a second before she dropped her gaze again. "Yes, ma'am. Whatever the client wants."

"That's not what I asked." The undertone of command in her voice made Quinn's breath catch in her throat and a curl of arousal spark in her abdomen. "Do you agree to this, Quinn? All of it."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before nodding and looking up, meeting Santana's eyes again. "Yes. I agree to it. I'll carry your child and offer any sexual pleasure you request as your," her tongue darted out briefly to moisten her dry lips, "agent for as long as our contract together lasts."

Santana looked at her for a long moment before nodding sharply. "Very well." Her pen tip scratching across the linen paper sounded loud in the quiet office as she signed the contract and handed it over to Sam. "Speak with Jesse in legal. He'll work out any clauses and riders for payment being arranged, but right now, I accept the terms."

Sam nodded and stood up, leaving the suitcase he'd been carrying sitting beside the chair. "I leave her in your hands then, Ms Lopez. I trust it'll be a safe place."

She nodded, but her eyes never left Quinn. "The safest."

* * *

After Sam left, the heavy mahogany door closing behind him with a dull thud of finality, Santana got up and walked around her desk on stiletto heels to lean against the front of it and look Quinn over. "So," she murmured, her eyes roving over the other woman, "Quinn. I can't say I ever expected to see you again. Not so soon at least."

"I'm sorry things didn't turn out as you wanted," Quinn said, trying not to look at Santana.

"I didn't say that." She pushed off the desk and crossed the space between her and Quinn in one stride. Bending over in her pencil skirt, she gripped Quinn's chin and pulled it up. "Do not misunderstand me, Quinn. This is _unexpected_ and perhaps un_planned_, but that hardly means unwanted."

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to look away again but Santana shook her chin gently.

"Don't look away from me when I speaking to you. It makes you look like some sort of slave."

"I _do_ belong to you now," she said softly, her shoulders slumping.

"Nonsense," Santana snapped, dropping her jaw and stepping back to the desk. "I may have contracted for the use of your body, but that doesn't rob you of free will. You _chose_ to carry my child to term - and yes, until a _post_-natal paternity test proves differently, I am choosing to believe it is mine and behave accordingly - and you _chose_ to allow our night to continue in the fashion it did. You can tell yourself that I bought you and you had no choice all you like, but I gave you opportunities to leave. To tell me to stop. You didn't, did you?"

"No," she whispered, her stomach clenching uncomfortably as she tried to think of what she'd tell Beth when - _if_ - she ever got to see her again. How she'd explain that her mother was a whore who sold herself into very nearly slavery for money.

"No, you didn't," she continued, folding her arms over her chest, unaware of the nature of Quinn's thoughts. "And now we're here. All three of us. Now, _technically_, I just contracted for the use of your body _sexually_ as well as the carrier of my child. This is your big chance to not be a slave because right in this moment I'm offering you the chance to close the door on that possibility or leave it open as much as you want. I was... impressed you didn't run when you finally saw _all_ of me, so if you decide you don't want any more sexual encounters between us, you'll be treated as a valued employee and nothing less. Or more."

For a long moment, Quinn sat in the chair with her hands folded protectively over her stomach, her thoughts racing through her head. She knew how overwhelmingly controlling Santana could be. Knew how it felt to have those warm hands on her body, how much lighter she was compared to her other clients. She remembered the sound of her voice, rich and warm in her ear and the way her body had responded. The way she'd focused on Quinn's pleasure, getting hers but not without making the other woman come so hard she'd actually passed out.

Almost without thinking, she slid to the carpeted floor, landing on her knees in the deep plush as she shuffled forward. Her hands raised to cradle Santana's hips as she leaned in and pressed a kiss to the growing bulge hidden by special underwear and the tight skirt.

"I don't want that," she whispered, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried not to despise herself for admitting that.

Santana's hand trembled slightly as she brought it down to stroke over Quinn's hair. Her voice was softly husky with want when she whispered, "Do you remember the rules?"

Quinn nodded, her cheek brushing over the silk of the skirt. "I remember."

"Tell me," she demanded, her hand continuing to stroke through soft blonde hair.

"Slow," she whispered, hating herself for feeling comforted by the petting and the tone of command in Santana's voice, "if I need you to slow down. Stop or no if I can't take any more."

"That's right," Santana said, looking down at her and feeling her body stir even more at the sight of the beautiful blonde on her knees in front of her. The fact that she was carrying _her_ child just made her want her even more. "I'll never rape you, Quinn. Or force you to do something you don't want to do. Nor will I ever _let_ any one do so to you. I don't take any pleasure from causing pain and I never will."

Quinn swallowed past the heavy feeling in her throat as she nodded again, feeling the bulge of Santana's erection pressing against her cheek as she rested it against Santana's skirt. "You'll let me do what I want?"

Santana nodded. "I will. If you want something from me, you have only to ask. And you are always allowed to tell me no if you don't want something I do. That's my promise to you."

She swallowed again, turning her face to kiss the bulge once more. "And... if I want you, I just have to ask?"

"Only ask," she agreed. "I'll take you whenever you want me too."'

"I want you now," she admitted, her hands sliding down to the hem of Santana's skirt, hating the feeling of arousal pooling the pit of her stomach when she was being so submissive having prided herself on her dominant personality in high school, but unable to deny it. "Please?"

"We need to work on how you ask for things," Santana growled softly, her cock throbbing in her underwear and demanding release from its prison, "but yes."

Quinn pushed up Santana's skirt and worked her compression underwear down off her hips to her ankles, helping Santana step out of them with one hand on her shoulder to keep her balance in the heels that brought her proud length to perfect height for Quinn to reach while on her knees. Santana's skirt was so tight, it bunched into a belt around her waist, exposing her ass and the smooth expanse of skin leading into her cock and balls to the cool air of the office, making her shiver as she watched Quinn straightening back up to explore her length with cautious touches.

"I didn't get to see last time," she tried explaining, not wanting to admit she was working her courage up to take her in her mouth. "You're really big."

"Am I?" she said, resuming her casual stroking through blonde hair, loving the feeling of the strands sliding over her fingers.

"The biggest I've seen," she admitted, hesitantly poking out the tip of her tongue to gather a drop of precum. "And I've never really _seen_ an uncut one before."

"Sure you have," she said softly, a slightly teasing smirk on her lips. "You've been with me before after all."

"Yeah, I guess so," Quinn whispered, licking her lips before nipping gently at the bottom of Santana's foreskin as she wrapped a hand around the base..

If there were two things the last two years had given her confidence in, it was getting guys off with her core and giving exceptional blow jobs. Every after service survey she'd ever gotten - well, except the first one - gave her top marks. They weren't her favorite thing to do since she was never certain the guy wouldn't grab her hair and try to force her to take her outside of her pace and there were far too many who weren't nearly fond enough of personal hygiene, but they didn't hurt as much as other activities guys liked.

She took Santana's head in her mouth and began playing with it, trying to figure out what sorts of things tickled her nerves. Her tongue slid beneath her foreskin, toying with it, pulling it out slightly so she could nibble ever so gently. She didn't know how it was happening, but everything she tried brought appreciative moans and a slow tightening of Santana's hand in her hair that rasped her nails across Quinn's scalp in a way that sent lightning jolting down her nerves to explode in the pit of her stomach.

"That's right, beautiful," Santana whispered, watching her suckle the head of her cock with hooded eyes. "So good. _So_ fucking good." She could feel her arousal building higher and higher, her balls tightening up in preparation of release, but she forced herself to remain calm, to let Quinn continue a little longer, her bare ass pressing against the marble edge of her desk's top.

Watching Quinn suckle her, red lips slowly sliding down her shaft and taking her deep was arousing, but more than anything it was the fact they were in her _office_, the door was _unlocked_, and _anyone_ could walk in and see Quinn using her mouth to make Santana's eyes roll back in her head that was making it harder and harder to resist the crest of her climax. She bit her lip hard, a ragged groan dragging it's way up from deep in her chest as a buck of her hips escaped her control. Her nails scratched along Quinn's scalp, her other hand moving to tangle in short blonde hair as she thought about how many people could potentially walk in.

"I want you," she husked, her voice shaking with desperate want as she clung to her orgasm with sheer willpower, eyes black with lust. "Quinn... I _want_ you."

Reluctantly, Quinn let the thick cock she'd finally adjusted to having in her mouth slide free, the shaft slick with her saliva as she looked up at Santana, eyes dilated. "Whatever you want."

Pulling Quinn to her feet, she led her around the desk, her dick throbbing almost painfully with her need to climax. Turning her chair to face the windows, she sat down with her legs spread and motioned for Quinn to come over.

"Take off your panties," she directed, eyes darting about the woman's slim body as she resisted touching her cock as it bobbed gently with each deep breath she sucked in trying to control herself. "And give them to me."

Quinn watched her as she slipped her hands under the skirt of her dress and slid her white cotton panties down off her hips and stepped out of them before tossing them to Santana. Santana groaned as the heady musk of Quinn's arousal that soaked the panties almost to translucence reached her nose.

"God," she groaned through gritted teeth. "Remove your dress. I want to see you."

She glanced uncertainly at the windows, her heart pounding at the potential of someone to see them before she reached up with trembling fingers to undo the buttons holding her sundress's top up. Once she managed to undo them, she dropped her arms, letting the dress slide off to pool on the ground at her feet. The low whimper that slipped from Santana's throat as she looked over her and the way her cock seemed to twitch awakened a tiny feeling of pride that had lain dormant since she'd walked through the door in Sue's office and into Will Schuester's domain.

"Come here," Santana husked, crooking a finger at her. "I want to feel you around me."

Quinn walked slowly across the intervening space, shifting her weight from one foot to the other to make her hips sway in a way she used to find particularly sexy. She let the hint of a smile curl her lips as she reached out put her hands on Santana's shoulders to climb on her lap. Her hint of a smile turned into a confused smile when Santana reached up to take her wrists in her hands.

"Turn around," she said, her lips parted as she panted for breath. "I want your back against my chest."

Confused by the awkwardness of getting into the position Santana wanted, she let the smaller woman - a fact that she suddenly realized with a barely restrained look of surprise - manipulate her body until she was in the position Santana wanted. She bit her lip as the woman's swollen head brushed her lips only for Santana to reach around to line herself up, slowly lowering Quinn down onto her throbbing erection with a low moan, her entire body trembling at the feeling of being sheathed inside the other woman again. Santana's hands slid up to cup her breasts as she settled down against the woman's lap.

Hot lips quested over the expanse of her throat and the crook of her shoulder as Santana rolled her hips, sliding her member in and out in a shallow roll. Fingers tugged and teased at her nipples and squeezed her breasts with gently firm pressure. Santana's breath was hot over her earlobe as she whispered, "When your belly grows with our child, I'll have to take you like this. From behind. So I can hold you close while I'm inside you."

Her eyes closed with a shuddering moan at the sound of promise in those words, her head falling back against Santana's shoulder. She let her hands slide along Santana's arms, giving herself over to the woman who - for all intents and purposes - owned her body for the next nine months. The words being whispered in her ear, the strength of the arms around her, the almost gentle way Santana's member slid in and out of her all blended together to make her feel strangely needed and almost safe.

"Open your eyes," Santana panted, pinching her breasts harder as she shifted her hips to rock up into Quinn with a little more force. "Look out the windows. Do you see all those people?" she asked, her lips brushing Quinn's ear as she pumped into her.

Quinn pried her eyes open halfway with a grunt of effort as her body rocked along Santana's cock, riding her. She could vaguely make out the people walking on the sidewalk several stories down if she squinted. The sun's light slanting off the windows of the office building across the street painted them with a mirror-like reflection, hiding whoever was behind them.

"Do you know how much they wish they could see you right now?" Santana ask, her voice rough with the effort of containing herself and her arousal as she thought of what she was saying. "How they wish they could see you being split open by my cock? Your nipples hard with want? Your body flush with desire for me? Do you realize how much they wish they were me right now?"

Quinn gasped and moaned as Santana's rhythm became rougher. She couldn't find the breath to respond in words, her hands gripping tightly to the arms of the chair to try and hold on to herself in some manner as Santana's cock rubbed heavily along her inner walls in a way that made her eyes want to roll back in her head as it pushed her to a higher and higher climax.

"But they _can't_," Santana declared with a possessive thrust of her hips. "Because you're _mine_, Quinn. This beautiful body of yours is _mine_ and the child in you is _ours_ and they can _never_ have that. Come with me," she gasped out, her body shaking with the need to release. "Come with me and show them they can never have you, baby."

It was too much. She'd been pushed too high and even if she'd wanted too, she wasn't able to resist coming. The dam inside her shattered under the overbearing pressure, clear fluid squirting from her to splash over Santana's thighs as the woman's cock jerked, spurting cum deep inside her pulsing channel. It seemed like forever before their mingled highs released them to fall back to earth, Quinn resting limply back in Santana's arms as they panted for breath.

When Santana's softening cock slipped from Quinn's channel in a rush of fluid, they weren't able to tell who whimpered from the feeling of loss. She nuzzled at Quinn's shoulder, her hands possessively cupped over her still flat belly. "I'll take care of you," she whispered. "There might be a contract, but even if there wasn't, I'd take care of you and our baby. I would."

Quinn didn't know what to say. She just pulled a lethargically heavy hand up to rest over Santana's where they covered her stomach, the afternoon's sun rays sliding through the window over them warm on their bare skin.

"We have to get dressed," Santana finally said, helping Quinn off her lap before reaching for the box of tissues on her desk to clean up. The moment of tenderness was gone as she tucked her member back away and pulled her underwear back on, smoothing her skirt down as if nothing had happened. "You can rest on the couch," she added, nodding to the sofa on the far wall of the office. "We'll be going home in another few hours and I'll show you to your new rooms then."

"I..." Quinn cut herself off, not sure how to handle Santana's behaviour. "Yes, ma'am," she finally said, pulling her dress back on without her panties after doing her best to clean up the mix of cum and arousal still seeping from her core and heading over the to couch to lay down.


	3. Chapter 3

Getting into Santana's black Lincoln MKZ with her instead of the grey Honda sedan the firm used to drive their agents to their client's locations was mildly nerve racking. It felt like she was doing something wrong as she sat on the black leather seats and watched the scenery slowly change as they drove out of the immediate metro into a nicer, more open area of the city. Santana noticed her white knuckling the door's armrest out of the corner of her eye and reached over to lay a hand on her other arm.

"I won't let anything happen to you," she reminded her, the touch strangely calming in combination with the words.

Quinn nodded, going back to looking out the window and trying to ignore the warm hand on her leg. She felt like she was moving further from home and Beth with every mile Santana drove, not closer like she should have been. When they pulled through the iron gate onto the long driveway that led up to the fieldstone and brick house, her hand slipped from the door to slide protectively over her stomach.

This was it. This was going to be her home for the next nine months until her baby was born. She swallowed and closed her eyes to offer a little prayer to a God she was growing more certain was indifferent that she would be able to convince the woman beside her to allow her to be in its life.

The quick blast of cold and the sound of the car door closing that soon followed it brought her back to the present and she watched nervously as Santana walked - though that was far too mild a term for the hip swaying strut that was the woman's natural stride - around to the passenger side. She barely noticed the young man in a suit heading to the back of the car to get her suitcase out of the trunk in favor of watching Santana. She didn't know what it was, but whenever the woman was near, her eyes were drawn to her.

She watched in a sort of stunned fascination as Santana opened the door, sending the cold air outside the car washing over her and causing her to shiver. When she finally realized Santana was looking at her expectantly - and that she was staring - she scrambled to unbuckle, a blush flooding over her pale cheeks. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, getting undone finally.

Santana just shook her head, reaching out to take her hand and help her from the car. "It doesn't matter. Don't worry about it. Come with me and I'll show you your room. Kurt will see to your things."

She assumed Santana was talking about the man who'd gone to get the bags, but Santana had already headed inside and Quinn had to hurry to catch up. Inside the house, everything was in shades of warm colors - reds, browns, oranges - with subtle accents of stone and polished wood here and there. The furniture she could see was cream with black accents, but she didn't have much of a chance to look while following Santana's authoritative stride up the stairs and down the hall.

Upstairs seemed a little more welcoming despite the cooler shades compared to the warm toned but closed off feeling of the first floor. Doors were open, leading at first into sparsely decorated rooms that Quinn decided were probably guest bedrooms. When Santana paused beside one door, she thought it was going to be her room, but Santana made no move to enter it.

"This is my room," she said, pushing the door open slightly to reveal a heavy looking four poster bed made out of darkly stained wood and fitted with pale satin-looking sheets and matching furniture. "If you need anything, you can come in any time. Unless, of course, the door is closed, in which case I would hope you would exhibit common courtesy and knock first."

"Of course," she said softly, not sure how to respond, her gaze dropping to her feet.

Santana sighed, feeling entirely out of her depth. "Come on. You can have the room down here."

She led her to the end of the hall at the top of a different staircase than the one they'd come up. She pushed open the door to reveal a small suite painted in dark hues - burnt sienna, crimson, and dark gold. The furniture was simple, but well-cared for and, to Quinn's untrained eye, looked older than the other furniture in the house. A few photographed landscapes hung on the wall here and there, giving the room a more lived in feel than the guest rooms she'd glimpsed earlier.

"Am I... taking someone's place?" Quinn asked uncertainly, stepping into the room to catch a glimpse of an in suite bathroom done in creams and blues.

Santana snorted. "It's my old room. I just... never got around to taking everything out after my father died. If you'd prefer different colors or furniture or... whatever, just let me or Kurt know and it'll be arranged." She nodded at the bathroom. "There's a nice jacuzzi tub in there. I'll have Kurt bring up some towels and a robe for you. I'm sure you'll want to get cleaned up before dinner."

That said, she turned and walked out of the room, disappearing into her room, the door shutting firmly behind her. Quinn swallowed hard, looking around the room that would be hers for the next few months. No annoying roommates insisting on singing bawdy ballads at two in the morning or trying to persuade her to don a strap-on to help her _practice_ for work - as if Quinn had any interest in being a prop for Rachel Berry - but also no Sam to look out for her. It made her feel almost as nervous an exposed as when Mr Schuester had insisted she be _groomed_ after her first attempt at a blow job before her training continued.

She shivered as she undressed, feeling a creepy similarity between then and now as she walked into the bathroom in nothing to run water into the tub, her soiled dress left draped over the foot of the bed. The only positive difference was that at least this time she was alone. There was no Brittany to hold her still while that creepy little minion of Sue's - _Kitty_, she'd never forget that name - scrubbed her entire body with a loofah so hard it felt like punishment more than cleaning.

She slipped into the tub with a wince as the hot water made contact with her stretched muscles. She knew how much it could sting though, remembering how she'd been strapped into the special chair in the _salon_. She'd known something was wrong when Kitty had strapped her ankles to the chair's stirrups while Brittany tied her wrists to the arms, but she hadn't known just _how_ wrong it was going to become

They'd cut her hair, whacking off most of the length she'd been so proud of growing up into a chin length pixie bob. That had been emotionally painful, but not nearly as painful as when Sue's blonde torture team had brought out the galvanic probe device. The electrolysis to remove the fine blond wisps of hair on her upper lip had made them get another strap to hold her head still as they electrically seared out each follicle.

She'd wanted to scream when they'd cranked the chair back flat and pumped it higher in a series of stomach dropping scoops, but her face hurt too much to want to move it. She'd squeezed her eyes shut as the arms of the chair were pushed away, holding her arms up as they started on her armpit. The few tears that managed to flow over a burned away follicle on her upper lip stung bad enough to make even more slip down her face.

It'd felt like hours before they were done with the first armpit. Several seconds for each hair, burning then pulling the dead hair away before jabbing the probe into the next one. The electric heat got to be unbearably hot with each hair, making her skin ache and her body tremble with the need for it to stop. Pain shot to the tips of her fingers with each successive probe, her skin swelling in heated protest.

When they finished the first arm, they left her alone for a time, which felt like a godsend - until she realized they were just stopping to let the tremors that had racked her body stop before starting the next arm. And it didn't stop there. Her underarms felt like they were on fire as they cranked the stirrups apart, the gears in the chair clicking as they moved her legs further apart inch by agonizing inch. Even realizing what was probably about to happen didn't prepare her for the agony of the probe electrically burning the fine blonde hairs covering her most delicate skin.

That was when she finally screamed.

* * *

The echo of her scream bouncing off pale blue tiles jerked her awake with a slosh of cooling water. She shook, trembling in the grip of her nightmare memory for a long moment before she realized where she was and allowed herself to relax again. A knock at the bathroom door nearly startled her into a second scream though.

"Is everything alright in there?" The voice was masculine - if a bit high - and young, but it wasn't one she recognized and there was no indication the door was opening, so she calmed back down.

"Y-yes. It's fine. I'm sorry. I'm afraid I fell asleep and, well..." She trailed off, grabbing a soft scrubber and some soap to start washing her body in an attempt to mask her confusion.

"Ah. I'm sorry for disturbing you then. If you don't mind, I'd like to open the door enough to leave you some fresh towels and a robe."

"T-that's okay. You can. Thank you," she called back, sliding down in the water to hide her body in case he tried to look.

The door opened slightly and a black suited arm reached in to set a pair of thick blue towels and a bundled up robe that made her groan slightly at the sight of how soft it looked on the toilet seat. The door closed again without the man the arm was attached to making an appearance. "If you'll come out when you're done, I believe I've found suitable attire for you to wear to dinner, ma'am."

"Thank you," she called softly, not sure how to handle the solicitous behaviour.

"You're very welcome." Came back followed by the muffled footsteps of someone walking away from the door.

* * *

Quickly finishing her bath - she'd long since stopped trying to scrub the cum out of her body after a client finished with her - and wrapping herself in the robe that felt as luxurious as it looked, she stepped out only to stop in surprise at the sight of a young man in an impeccable black suit and white tie with his hair neatly combed standing at the foot of her bed. He smiled slightly, nodding at her in recognition before pulling his hands out from behind his back and adjusting his cuffs with slight twitches of his fingers to make his sleeves lie flat again.

"Hello, ma'am," he said, his smile broadening slightly. "My name is Kurt Hummel. I'm Ms Lopez's personal assistant cum butler and she asked me to assist with seeing you properly settled in to the household. I wasn't aware that you were as physically attractive as you are when I'd heard she'd take an, ahem," he cleared his throat, "lover, shall we say."

A neatly shaped blonde brow arched over one hazel eye. "If that makes you more comfortable," she said slowly, nodding slightly. "I've been called much worse before."

His smile grew slightly sardonic. "Ma'am, in time, I believe, you'll learn that Ms Lopez doesn't allow derogatory terms to come from any mouth but her own in her household."

"I... see," she said slowly, looking puzzled. "You, um... you said you found an outfit for me to dinner?"

"Yes, ma'am. If you'll look here," he stepped to the side of the bed, gesturing to a set of deep teal lingerie - of a cut she was almost certain was more daring and sensual than anything she'd ever owned - neatly laid out beside a turquoise top that looked like silk, a woven beige belt, and a white linen skirt. "I believe this outfit will accentuate your coloring in a flattering fashion as well as appeal to our mistress's eyes."

"I," she cleared the knot of anxious confusion from her throat with a soft cough, "None of this is mine."

That slightly sardonic smile that was quickly becoming irritating made a return. "No, ma'am. The clothing that you arrived with are being, ahem, properly cleaned and altered by Ms Lopez's tailor to properly fit you. We'll go to visit her tomorrow for a test fitting. Of course, as you," his eyes darted to her stomach, "_grow_, none of them will properly fit, but they should - with very minor alterations to accommodate your body changes - fit in a far superior fashion after."

"That doesn't explain why I'm wearing," she gestured at the clothes on the bed in frustration, "_this_."

"Consider it a gift from our mistress, ma'am," he said. "You are aware that I'll be taking you to acquire proper attire suitable for your residing in this household and whatever additional toiletries are accessories as you shall require tomorrow, correct?"

Quinn's eyes widened in surprise. "No! Why?!"

He chuckled. "Clearly you're not accustomed to our mistress's whims yet. Give it time and you shall adjust as we all did when she assumed the duties of head of household upon her father's demise. She expects a certain level of quality of attire - that I admit I was entirely tickled to learn of - by all members of the household, from staff," he gestured to himself, "to the actual household," this time the nod of his head was in her direction. "Considering that you are Ms Lopez's lover and the mother of her child, there, of course, is an additional leeway in the variety and designs of apparel and accessories considered suitable."

She let out a slightly strangled noise, overwhelmed by what was happening and letting the little control she'd held at the firm by being allowed to pick her own clothing slipping away. "What's wrong with what I wear?!"

"Nothing, of course," he reassured her, recognizing the signs of an impending outburst from long association with Santana. "Having perused your selections while hanging them for transport to the tailor, I was very pleased to recognize a timeless quality to the outfits you seem to prefer. All that is lacking is the quality of material and designers. It simply will not do to have the person on Ms Lopez's arm be dressed in a K-mart special while she is sporting Armani as I'm sure you'll understand."

Quinn reached up to rub her face as she nodded, trying desperately not to start crying. It was so much harder not to lately and she hoped it wasn't due to the baby she'd been told was growing inside her. She didn't really feel different yet though the firm's doctor, Ms Pillsbury, had reassured her she would soon.

Kurt stepped forward and laid a solicitous hand on her arm. "Ms Fabray, I assure you, Ms Lopez is not attempting to change you from who you are. I'm her personal shopper and it will be a great honor to assist you, but if you would prefer I do not, I am content to merely serve as your escort into the city."

She swallowed hard, knowing she was on the verge of tears. "T-thank you, Mr Hummel -"

"Kurt," he said simply, cutting her off. When she looked up at him in confusion, he smiled softly. "My name is Kurt, ma'am. You aren't expected to call anyone by their last name in the household. _Anyone_, ma'am. Ms Lopez's direct orders."

She frowned. "I don't understand."

"Ms Lopez has instructed all of us to direct to you the same level of respect she held before her father's demise," he explained, removing his hand now that she seemed to have calmed down. He smiled reassuringly at her. "Don't worry, please. No one here will force you to do anything you don't care to do."

Quinn took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Okay." She attempted a smile, though she knew it probably wasn't as confident as she wanted it to be. "You really think this will look good on me?" she asked, nodding at the clothing on the bed as she hugged her robe tighter around herself.

His smile brightened. "I'm certain of it, ma'am. Do you think you can manage dressing alone or do you require any assistance?"

She shook her head. "N-no. No, I'm certain I can handle it on my own."

"Very good, ma'am," he said, nodding slightly. "If you'll excuse me then, I need to retrieve your accessories."

"Um, okay," she said softly, barely noticing as he stepped from the room, closing the door softly behind him.

She would never forget the way the soft, satin lingerie felt as she slipped it on for the first time. She slid her hands over her sides, smoothing over the thin cloth that flowed down from the cups of her bra as she looked over herself in the mirror. She couldn't deny that she looked attractive in the camisole and panty set, but in a way that almost made her feel uncomfortable. She turned to the side and smoothed a hand down the still flat plane of her stomach, trying to imagine her belly swollen with child stretching out the bottom of the camisole.

She chuckled sadly. "Oh, Beth... you'd be so ashamed of your mommy," she whispered, turning away from the mirror to finish dressing.

* * *

A knock on the door as she was trying to figure out how to wrap the belt around her waist startled her into dropping. "Dammit," she hissed, dropping to her knees to pick it up. "Come in!"

The door opened, revealing her owner and not Kurt as she'd expected. The rich - and quickly growing familiar - chuckle startled her into looking up. "I'm hardly royalty, Quinn. You're not required to kneel when I enter a room," Santana said, coming into the room to offer her hand to help her up. "Having trouble with those ridiculous belts Kurt's always picking?"

"I, um," she ducked her head as she stood with the belt in her hands, a blush darkening her face and ears, "yes."

Slim, dark fingers tugged it free of her hands. "It's easy," she whispered, stepping close and wrapping it around Quinn's waist, "once you know the trick." Wrapping it around a second time, she slipped it through the antique brass ring at the end of the length, folded it back to tug it gently tight, then slid the end under the bottom edge of the belt before feeding it back over the top, and weaving it back through the ring to hang down the front of her skirt slightly. Once it was wove close to her satisfaction, she tugged it to the side so the tail dangled down the front of one of Quinn's thighs instead of between them. Her hands gently slid up to tug the hem of Quinn's shirt slightly from her skirt to blouse over the belt.

"There," she whispered, stealing a soft kiss. "Isn't that better?"

"I, um," Quinn swallowed hard, blushing at her stammering and trying to ignore the thrill of arousal pooling between her legs at how close Santana was to her, "yes, ma'am."

"Good." One slim hand disappeared into a pocket of her jacket. "I caught Kurt trying to find you accessories, but," she pulled her hand back out, revealing a battered jewelry box that made Quinn's breath catch in her throat in recognition, "I believe these will suit you best."

Her hands trembled as she reached out to take the box that she was certain contained the small gold cross and diamond studs she'd thought she'd lost forever when they were taken from her at the firm. Her eyes watered, tears slipping over her cheeks unchecked when she opened the box and saw the small, simple accessories glinting up at her in the light of the room. Her father's last non judgemental gifts to her before he kicked her out.

"Sam brought them to the office while you were sleeping," Santana said softly, watching her set the box down to pull the bigger amethyst studs she'd been wearing on the firm's insistence out and start putting the smaller studs in their place. "He said they were yours."

"They are," she admitted, her head turned to fit the studs in place. "M-mr. Schuester had them taken from me."

Santana's lips thinned at that admission. "That will not happen again."

Quinn glanced at her. "I appreciate it, Ms Lopez."

"Santana," she corrected, taking the necklace up and fastening it around Quinn's neck. "I will tolerate ma'am or Santana or even Ms Santana. Not Ms Lopez."

"I..." She trailed off from her near protest - Will Schuester's voice echoing in the back of her head _whatever the client wants_ - and nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I understand."

"Good. Dinner is in thirty minutes," she said, turning from the woman. "I'll see you there." At the door, she paused glancing back at her. "And you look... nice."

_Nice_? The strange comment left Quinn standing there in startled surprise. She couldn't tell if it was an insult or a compliment from the tone it'd been delivered in, but it, strangely, made her feel more appreciated than the many men who'd called her beautiful over the years.


	4. Chapter 4

Dinner was a strange affair.

After being led down the back staircase by Kurt prompted her to try a quip about the servants' stairs that had just made the young man laugh - "This isn't Britain, Ms Fabray. We don't have a special staircase just for servants." - she'd opted to keep her mouth more shut than not to avoid any more embarrassing missteps. Her father never would have recognized her after that decision - not that he would have even pretended to recognize her after she became pregnant with Beth, let alone signing Sue's contract to become one of her whores. He'd always taught her to speak. To take advantage of the situation in whatever way possible.

To be a _Fabray_.

As she was seated in one of the oak high-back chairs at the dining table by a solicitous Kurt across from a Santana that looked more interested in her smart phone than the woman carrying her child across from her, Quinn reflected if it was possible to be _less_ like her father's absurd definition of what a _Fabray_ was, then it probably didn't exist. She'd been a pregnant teen, sold herself into the hands of a demented duo to sell her body for sex, and was now pregnant with another woman's - albeit a very well _endowed_ woman - child. And all before she was old enough to drink. It was about as far as she could get from her father's ideal while still remaining human and - relatively - straight.

The dish of chicken, pasta, and asparagus set in front of her was almost mouthwateringly delicious smelling and a far cry from the sort of food she'd been able to afford on her limited budget while she was trying to raise Beth or the strictly nutritionally regulated meals allowed her by the firm. The portion size was significantly more generous as well. She looked up at the cheerfully smiling black woman in the white chef's jacket in confusion as she put a plate down in front of Santana.

"Tonight's dinner is chicken thighs braised in a sauce made from white wine, cherry tomatoes from our very own greenhouse, and garlic - and don't you even give me any lip about those bland, rubbery things you call _breasts_, Ms Lopez. There's more saline in those things you ordered than Dolly Parton. I sent the whole lot back."

Santana just rolled her eyes with a tolerant smile. "Whatever you think is best, Mercedes," she said, putting her phone away. "I defer to your judgement in the kitchen. I'd be careful about continuing to send things back after I order them though. I won't always order something else."

"You keep telling yourself that," Mercedes said with a snort. "You know you love my sweet cooking or you wouldn't be paying my check every other week. Now, accompanying these succulent as hell thighs is an angel hair pasta tossed with butter and fresh oregano and basil - which will just love up on that sauce the thighs were braised in and be _completely_ delicious - and sauteed asparagus with a little lemon and shallots. And," she added with a smirk, "if anyone is wondering what that _heavenly_ smell coming from my kitchen is, it's homemade sweet potato tots which aren't accompanying this meal because _someone_ has a problem with them."

"You tried serving them with _every_ meal!" Santana protested, a slight smirk making the familiar old argument between them less combative.

She rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Quinn. "Whatever. Ms Thang just doesn't understand the subtle nuances of a properly made tot, but if you ever get a craving for the golden goodness, you just give me a ring down in the kitchen and I will fix you _right_ up."

"I, um... t-thank you," Quinn said with a blush, looking down at her plate to hide the smile the banter had started to invoke.

"Mercedes!" Santana snapped, rolling her eyes. "Kindly stop propositioning my lover," Quinn's eyes widened noticeably in surprise at the casual use of the title before her attention was directed down to her plate again, "with offers of carbs no matter how delicious they may be and go have dinner with your man. Or would you like me to inform Shane that your interests are trending," her voice lowered to a dangerous purr as she smirked at the wide eyed woman, "in a _different_ direction?"

"You do and you'll never get another cookie from my kitchen," Mercedes responded, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. "Shane knows quality when he sees it. He'd never believe you."

"Mmhmm," she murmured, turning her attention to her dinner, "you keep telling yourself that."

"Whatev," Mercedes responded, stalking back off through the door that Quinn could only presume led to the kitchen.

"As you've probably noticed, Quinn," Santana said after a few moments for them both to cut their food up into manageable pieces, "I'm not an unreasonable person to live with. I require only two things from the members of my household." She paused to take a small bite of chicken, savoring the taste as she chewed before swallowing. "Mercedes outdid herself this time. As I was saying, I required only two things. One, complete honesty. In your case that will be doing away with that absurd mantra of your firm's. I don't wish to hear it from you again. If you don't want something, then be honest and tell me."

"Yes, ma'am," Quinn said softly, swallowing hard as she tried to force down her food past the thick feeling in her throat that seemed constant since she'd agreed to carry the other woman's child.

"Good. The other thing is obedience." She dabbed at her lips with her napkin. "I will only rarely give orders, but when I do, I expect them to be obeyed without question. Is that clear?"

Quinn looked up at her, startled. Her mouth hung open as she tried to process being able to refuse to do something that Santana claimed to want with the woman's need for utter obedience. Santana frowned at how long it was taking for her to respond and set her fork down deliberately.

"I _said_," she said slowly, her voice dangerously low, "is that _clear_, Quinn?"

"I... I, um... y-yes. Yes, ma'am," she whispered, her cheeks flushing as she looked down at her food again.

"Good." There was a soft scrape of metal on porcelain as Santana picked up her fork to resume eating. "In return, I provide for all of your needs to the best of my ability and," she looked across the table at Quinn, waiting until the blonde raised her head to meet her eyes, "I'll never touch you with the purpose of hurting you. That's a promise, Quinn. I may correct you, but I'll never touch you in anger or with the intent to cause you harm. You or..." Her eyes flicked towards Quinn's stomach, but she didn't finish the statement, not yet prepared to fully acknowledge the child growing in her stomach.

Quinn nodded slowly. "I... understand. I think."

"I hope so," she said mildly, scooping up another forkful of pasta and asparagus to eat. "Because I expect to see you in my bedroom no less than two hours after dinner is complete. Unless," she raised a brow at Quinn, "you'd prefer to not be fucked tonight?"

"N-no," she said, a blush flooding over her cheeks as she realize how quickly she protested. "I... I'll be there."

"Are you sure? Because I won't tolerate any more of that bullshit the firm had you spouting."

She nodded again. "Yes, ma'am. I'm sure. I'll be in your bedroom."

Santana nodded. "Undress when you arrive and then wait for me."

Her blush spread to the tips of her ears. "Yes, ma'am," she said softly, turning her attention to finishing her dinner.

* * *

Two hours later, Quinn was waiting with growing anxiety as she stood in the middle of Santana's bedroom feeling completely exposed with her clothes neatly folded on top of the dresser. She'd been unable to suppress the shiver that ran through her at the sight of the black silk ropes carefully woven around the posts of Santana's dark wood bed - the sight bringing to mind the night she'd spent in Santana's pleasure at the hotel. Her hands rubbed over her wrists, remembering the feel of the scarves loosely tied around her wrists and ankles that night.

Her heart slowly started beating faster as the memories of that night ran through her mind, a hot trickle of arousal slipping down her thigh. Her breathing changed, becoming deeper and slower as she tried to control herself, unaware of how her eyes were darkening. It was to that sight - Quinn nude and visibly aroused in the middle of her bedroom - that Santana entered the room.

"Starting without me?" she murmured, her voice low with amusement as she dragged the heavy oak chair from her vanity over to the middle of the room. "Sit."

Quinn looked at her in confusion, not understanding what she wanted.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" she asked softly, a dangerous edge to her voice sending a shiver up Quinn's spine as she found herself moving to obey Santana's order, the cotton of the pillow on the seat seeming rough against her bare ass. "Good girl."

She paced around the chair, looking Quinn over. She didn't refrain from touching her, nudging her legs further apart with a foot or running her fingers over the width of her shoulders. Occasionally, her fingers slipped down to brush lingeringly over bare thighs or the peaks of her breasts.

"You're a very beautiful woman, Quinn," she murmured, otherwise ignoring the way her erection was beginning to bulge the front of her skirt out. "I'm almost surprised you chose this profession, though I'm sure you had your reasons. Everyone does."

Quinn shivered and tried not to respond to the way she could feel Santana's eyes roving over her nude body, visually caressing her with a gaze so heated she almost thought it'd burn her. "I... had debts," she whispered, not willing to let the woman have the knowledge of her daughter.

"I imagine you did," she murmured. "What are you going to do, Quinn? Stay? Go?" Her head cocked to the side as she regarded her. "You could, you know. Leave that is. Of course, I'll sue for custody of my child should it be born, healthy or not, but you could leave. Neither slavery or prostitution is technically legal so there's nothing I nor that firm of yours could do to stop you or... reclaim you, so to speak."

Quinn's breath caught in her throat as Santana's words sank in. Leaving. Getting to see Beth again. It sounded too good to be true. "T-they'd find me, ma'am. I... signed a contract."

"That sort of contract isn't legal in this country," she said, letting her hands play over Quinn's shoulders as she stood behind her. "I want you to be aware that, should you choose to," she lingered on the word _choose_, drawing Quinn's attention to it, "you can leave at any time. You may be carrying my child, but I don't own slaves. Every member of my household is here because they choose to be. You have that same choice to make every morning."

She leaned down, her breath warm against Quinn's ear as she husked, "Do you understand what I'm saying, Quinn?"

She trembled faintly under Santana's hands, her eyes falling closed as her breath flooded over her ear and cheek. "Y-yes, ma'am. I... I think so."

"I won't have someone here against their will," she said, straightening up again and beginning to circle her once more. "Either in my house or my bed. I enjoy your company. I even enjoy your body." She paused in front of her, noticing the way Quinn's eyes fell to the bulge of her erection with an almost hungry gaze with a tiny smirk. "I especially enjoy the way you look at me without fear," she added in a husky voice. "But... unless it's by _your_ choice, I don't want you here."

"I understand, ma'am," Quinn whispered, following Santana with her eyes.

"I'm not sure you do. Not yet," Santana said softly. "But you will learn. For now though..." She knelt in front of her, running her hands from her knees up her legs to press gently against her inner thighs, making her swing her legs out around the sides of the chair and slide her ass forward on the seat, bringing her core closer to Santana's face. She breathed deeply, her nose nearly brushing the woman's dripping core as she inhaled her scent. "For now," she continued, her voice husky with want, "I'm going to enjoy the fact that you chose to be here."

Quinn whimpered softly as she looked down at the dark head between her thighs as Santana leaned in. She had to force herself to grip her knees and not bury her fingers in dark hair, knowing she'd be punished if she didn't from long hours of _training_ by the firm. The first rough brush of the tip of Santana's tongue dragging up from the upper edge of her entrance's rim to flick over where her clit was just peeking out of its hood nearly made her convulse, her stomach muscles jerking hard in reaction.

"So sensitive," Santana murmured, her breath hot and cold waves over her core. "I love how quickly you react to me. How _delicious_ you are," she added, burying her face against Quinn's hairless mound to take her clit between her lips and suckle hard.

Quinn writhed, having to force her hands back to grip the back of the chair to avoid breaking the skin on her legs she gripped them so hard. She gasped for breath as Santana held her clit between her teeth and lashed it with her tongue, too overwhelmed to give voice to the scream in her throat. Santana rolled her eyes up to watch her as she slid her hands to her knees to keep them pressed apart as she focused on massaging the gland in her mouth.

She forced out a desperate keen as Santana let up only long enough to slide lower, lapping at her entrance before thrusting inside as far as she could. She nuzzled at her clit with her nose, breathing shallowly as she did her best to pump her tongue as far as she could inside of her. Above her, Quinn desperately tried to keep control, but when Santana's insistent tongue met the aroused state she'd already worked herself into remembering the night the other woman had made her blackout from the force of her orgasms, she was doomed to fail.

She came with a choked off cry, her walls clamping down on Santana's tongue even as a rush of fluid coated the woman's chin. The smile on Santana's face was almost wicked as she pulled away, everything smelling like the amazing musk of a woman's cum. She stood, reaching down to tug Quinn up onto shaky legs, arousal dripping down her thighs and soaked into the pillow she'd been sitting on.

"To the bed, beautiful," she husked into Quinn's ear, helping the dazed woman make her way over to the bed and spread out on top of the cream colored sheets. "Tomorrow you may change your mind," she whispered, tying Quinn's hands loosely together over her head before attaching them to the rope dangling down from the center of the headboard. "But tonight," she added, kissing her way down Quinn's still trembling body as she moved to tie her ankles to each corner post, "you chose to belong to me again."

Quinn swallowed thickly as she watched Santana climb off the bed and slowly remove her clothes. Her eyes followed her hands almost hungrily as they slid down over the heavy globes of her breasts, over the flat plane of her stomach, to circle and casually stroke over the thick length of her proud cock. "I belong to you," she whispered, feeling her body respond to Santana's gaze in a way that almost frightened her.

"You're mine," she agreed, crawling back onto the bed and dragging her cock along her leg to tease her core with just the head. "I'm going to make you _ruin_ these sheets, Quinn. You'll come so hard on my cock, you'll explode," she whispered, reaching down to line herself up. "Tell me now if you don't want this."

She looked up at Santana, her nostrils flaring as the scent of her cum coating Santana's chin hit her nose. "I _want_," she gasped out.

Taking that as permission, Santana slammed into her, bottoming out against her cervix with a grunt as she sealed Quinn's lips in a possessive kiss. Her hips flexed, thrusting hard into her over and over, her thick member stretching her wide and rubbing against her walls almost painfully fast until she managed to stretch to take her. Their breasts rubbed together, nipples clashing against each other as Santana fucked her hard enough to rock the heavy oak bed into the wall with hard thumps.

She knew Santana had the ability to come more than once from their last time together, but she hadn't been expecting the flood of cum into her core when she first came with a low grunt into her mouth, continuing to thrust into her with her softening member. Santana pulled away from the kiss, looking down at Quinn's swollen lips with pride as she ground her slightly softened member into Quinn's core, never pulling out all the way. After a few moments, she all but collapsed down on top of Quinn, nuzzling her neck.

"I'm not done yet," she panted, continuing to slowly move her softened member slightly inside her. "Don't think I'm done..."

Quinn licked her lips as she concentrated on the feeling of Santana's now significantly smaller member sliding in and out of her in tiny increments. Tentatively, she tried using kegel exercises to grip her, making Santana moan deep in her throat in a way that sent a jolt of arousal straight to her core. She'd been taught to use the exercises at the firm, but had never found a good enough reason to before now.

After a minute of the shallow thrusts and Quinn massaging her cock, Quinn gasped at the feeling of it swelling inside her again. Santana pushed herself up on her forearms with a knowing smirk. "Told you I wasn't done yet," she said, moving herself to be able to catch a nipple between her teeth and suck hard as she started thrusting again.

Startled into audibility, Quinn's gasps, moans, and cries of pleasure echoed through the spacious bedroom, mingling with Santana's own grunts and gasps of effort as she pounded into her. Once... twice... three times Quinn's walls clenched hard around Santana's cock, making it hard to move for a couple moments as she came, her eyes rolling back in her head as each climax thundered over her.

Reaching down between them as she felt herself getting close to her third orgasm of the day and knowing she wouldn't be able to do more, Santana found Quinn's clit and started massaging it with rough hurry. Her breath came in fast pants as she clung to her climax, Quinn keening desperately under her, her nails digging into the rope binding her to the bed.

"Come with me," she demanded, nipping at her shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. "Come with me, baby."

Even teetering on the brink of an sex-fueled blackout, she couldn't help but obey, her body locking up hard around Santana as she squirted out over their jointed bodies even as Santana pumped her full of cum again before collapsing on top of her. It was several long minutes before Santana recovered enough to pull herself from Quinn's ravished body in a rush of fluids.

Her hands shook with exhaustion as she untied the ropes binding Quinn's wrists and ankles, her eyes never leaving the half-awake woman's body as she freed her. Her heart told her to clean her and let her stay, but her mind slapped her with memory of the other woman hurriedly dressing and leaving with her pay the last time she did something like that. Shaking her head to try and clear away the pointless romanticism, she walked across the room to grab a towel from her ensuite bathroom.

After cleaning herself, she tossed it at Quinn. "Clean up," she said, a rasp of command in her sore voice, "then you can leave."

Looking confused, Quinn slowly pushed herself up before taking the towel with a visibly shaking hand and doing her best to mop up the worst of the fluids still leaking from her core. Shaking to badly from exhaustion and post-orgasmic stupor to fumble her way into her clothes after getting to her feet and picking them up, she clutched them to her chest as she made her way out of the room and down the hall to her own bedroom, feeling more humiliated than she had in a long while.

Back in her room, Santana slumped down in the chair she'd left in the center of the room and cradled her head in her hands. "Mami... Papi, I wish you were here to tell me what to do," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "I could really use your help."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** If anyone's wondering about the money Quinn sold herself into 5 years of indentured service, consider this: First, her debt - about $25,000 with interest - is paid off. Second, the inital offer was for $200,000 for 5 years and then she agreed to the clause of an additional $100,000 per pregnacy. Third, her room & board is covered for 5 years at about $1200 a month, that's $72,000. Fourth, her health insurance is fully covered for five years - up to and including all of her costs for the birth of any child she carries. That can be up to $230,000 in five years. Add all that up, and she's actually agreed to be a prostitute for over $625 _thousand_ over five years with no debit and $200,000 to $300,000+ in a bank account at the end. That's over $125,000 per year effectively, which can tempt a lot of people. But heck, even $40,000 a year can be tempting if you're in debt and see no other options.

Other than that, there's nothing inherently immoral in a man or woman _chosing_ to be a part of the sex industry and it's really nasty to imply there is. What happened to Quinn in the firm _is_ immoral and wrong because she was forced to do what she was doing after signing, but not voluntary sex work in general. Unless you're trying to say that porn stars are inherently immoral or that I am for writing this, because porn and erotica are also parts of the sex industry. In which case, I'm feeling rather uncomfortable with the fact you're reading this.

* * *

She remembered being bent over the desk.

It wasn't cool in the room - for _his_ comfort she supposed - and the wood was warm against her breasts, arms, and stomach. Considering the age of the desk and the lack of care that it'd apparently received over those years, that was about the only positive thing about it. The abused wood was rough against her skin, drawing light scratches over her breasts and tender nipples with each hard thrust into her body.

She'd tried resisting, but that had only angered him.

His assistant - a young curly haired man with an almost uncanny resemblance to her trainer - had bound her wrists with rough sisal rope tight enough to hurt before tying them to the desk when she she'd tried to hold herself up off the desk. When she'd tried to close her legs against his fingers probing the tight pucker of her anus and dry entrance to her core, the assistant had returned - this time with a spreader bar that forced her legs so far apart her hips ached in protest. She sobbed protest into the wood, the dusty smell forcing itself into her nose as he pushed inside her core.

"Whatever the client wants," he hissed into her ear with each thrust. "Remember that, Quinn. _Whatever_ the client wants." He'd grunted with effort, his hands hot and sweaty on her hips as he pulled her back to meet each painfully hard thrust, the desk legs squealing in protest as he jerked them across the floor while fucking her. "That means you don't _fight_," he said, nodding to his assistant.

The younger man pulled his own growing erection out before sinking his fingers into Quinn's hair and pulling her head back, forcing her to open her mouth in startled reaction. As soon as it was open, he filled it with his cock, waiting for her to gag violently before stopping and pulling back. "Breath through your nose and swallow when it's coming in," he warned before sliding in again, this time getting only a harsh cough as she fought to breath around his length.

"Whatever the client wants," Will grunted, thrusting over and over, pushing her into the desk hard enough to bruise her thighs. "You don't _fight_. You don't _resist_. You just spread your legs and open your mouth like the little slut you are and beg for fucking _more_!"

She'd whined against the ache in her jaw and pain between her legs, pulling on the ropes holding her down and the bar spreading her open to no avail. The two men had her at their mercy. The words "whatever the client wants" and "give them _everything_" swirling around her as she rocked between them as they took their pleasure from her body.

That was when the tears started.

It was another three days before she was untied from that desk and her injuries tended to. In that time she'd been whipped, subjected to more sex toys then she'd ever even imagined on every orifice and tender spot of her body, fucked repeatedly in every hole until cum leaked copiously down her legs and pooled under her slack jaw on the desk, and forced to hear those two phrases over and over again until she could hear them even when no one was speaking. A nutrient mix in a bottle held by a pitying Becky was the only food she was allowed - or really able to stomach and the entire time she cried silently.

By the time she was untied three days later, she'd stopped crying.

When Sue'd asked what she wanted to do as she knelt beside the desk on trembling knees, she'd hung her head and whispered five words.

"Whatever the client wants, ma'am."

* * *

The whirring hiss of a curtain being drawn back and the sudden influx of brilliant sunlight through the room's eastern window ripped her out of her dreams - if they could be called that - almost as effectively as a bucket of cold water. She hissed in pain against the light, holding up one hand to block it from her eyes and inadvertently giving whoever had opened the curtain a show as she'd somehow managed to kick the covers off in her restless sleep. She blinked against the light, trying to make out the silhouette into a person before her eyes fully adjusted.

"While I appreciate our mistress's taste in most things," Kurt's dry voice emerged from the brilliance, making Quinn's eyes widen as her state of undress sank into her startled awake mind and she started scrambling for something to cover herself, "I must say, the female form _still_ does nothing for me. Pity."

"Oh my _God_, what are you _doing_ in here?!" she half-hissed, half-shrieked as she finally managed to wrestle a sheet around her torso.

"Waking you up for our outing today," he said, a sardonic brow raising. "Or was Ms Lopez as successful as it sounded in her attempts at, ahem, fucking you senseless last night?"

"Oh God," she groaned, rubbing at her face. "Did everyone hear?"

"I imagine it'd be hard not to," he replied, shrugging.

She moaned and tried to bury her face in her hands. It was one thing to have to do the Walk of Shame out of a hotel, but to do it through a house full of people she'd be living with for the next few months at minimum? It was almost too much.

"Ms Fabray," he began only to be cut off.

"Don't call me that," she said softly, taking a deep breath. "Just... don't. My name is Quinn."

He frowned. "Miss, you know that Ms Lopez gave strict orders to -"

"I don't really care. She's not here right now and I want to be called by my _name_, not my father's family."

"Ah... well," he thought about it for a moment before letting out a sigh that reminded her a little too much of her former roommate in a way too funny for words, "I suppose that... what _are_ you laughing at?"

"I'm sorry," she managed to get out between half-hysterical giggles, "I... you... oh my God, you're so like Rachel it's not funny."

"Rachel?"

"My, um... my roommate," she finally explained, sobering up as explaining that she was a whore was starting to sink in. "She was, um... like me, I guess you'd say."

"Oh, a surrogate?" Kurt asked, sounding blithely unaware as he stepped to the armoire to remove what he referred to as a "suitable shopping frock and underthings".

"A... surrogate?" Quinn blinked in confusion.

"Well, yes," he said, laying her clothes out for her. "That's what Ms Lopez said you were when she informed us you would be joining the household."

"I... oh," she said softly, trying to wrap her mind around the lie.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, straightening up with a concerned expression.

"I... no, no. Everything's fine. T-thank you. I'll just get dressed now and meet you downstairs in a few minutes. Okay?"

He smiled at her and nodded, stepping back from where he'd been fussing with the clothes. "Of course. I'll see you downstairs soon."

"Thank you, Kurt," she said softly as he headed out of the room.

* * *

"Where are we going?" she asked softly forty minutes later as she looked out the window of the chauffeured Lincoln.

"First to see Ms Cohen-Chang to have your measurements taken and to arrange for proper fitting of what outfits you already own," Kurt said, adjusting the lay of his slacks after crossing one leg primly over the other knee. "Then to purchase such additional pieces as your wardrobe needs. Naturally, when you begin showing, we'll have to get things altered again as well as purchase more flattering outfits, but I'm certain she's up to the task."

"I... see," she said softly, letting her forehead rest against the cool glass.

"After," he murmured, folding his hands demurely in his lap, "Ms Lopez requested your presence at the office."

"S-she did?" she asked shyly, still not certain about finding out that Santana hadn't labelled her as a whore to the staff.

He nodded. "Of course it is your choice if you go or not, but she expressed that she would like to see you."

"I," she hesitated, taking a deep breath through her nose as she gently stroked her stomach, "I... think I'd like that."

"Very good, miss. Now, if you'd please," he said as the car pulled to a stop outside a modest brick building. "We've arrived."

The large man she'd been introduced to as simply Shane got out of the driver's seat and came around to open the door. "Ma'am, Mr Hummel."

"We may be a while," Kurt said, getting out before reaching in to hand Quinn out, "so feel free to run errands and I'll call when we're about finished."

"Cool." He smiled, lopsidedly but somehow having a salacious edge to it. "My lady asked me to pick up some fancy herbs and fruits for dinner and you know how she gets when she gets what she wants."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Your room is next to mine so _yes_ I do know. Thank you for the warning."

Shane chuckled unashamedly as he closed the doors and walked back around to get in the car and drive off.

"I swear, if he wasn't the best driver cum bodyguard..." Kurt trailed off, shaking his head before offering his arm. "Now, shall we?"

Hesitating only a moment, Quinn took his arm and let him lead her through the black door into the building. Once inside, she looked around in startled amazement at the open floor plan full of busily working people in clearly defined work areas colored in shades of black, red, and highlighted in silver and steel. The air was crowded with at least twenty different conversations in multiple languages being yelled indiscriminately through the area.

A young Asian woman in an elaborately designed and detailed black and red Victorian gown with blue and red extension in her hair waved at Kurt as she came down the iron stairs that led up to a second floor office area. "Kurt! There you are!"

She came over with quick strides that belied the restrictive appearance of her dress. "And _you_ must be Santana's Quinn. Wow," she smirked at Kurt, "Santana does have good taste in ladies."

"You're just jealous because she never picked you," he teased mildly.

She snorted. "Says you. Come on, do the butler thing and introduce us."

His lips twisted in a sardonic smile as he nodded. "Quinn Fabray, may I introduce you to Ms. Lopez's preferred tailor, Ms Tina Cohen-Chang?"

At the surprised look on Quinn's face, Tina scowled. "Don't even start. I'm not a tailor because I'm Asian. Seriously. How racist can you get?"

"I... I'm sorry!" she stammered, startled.

Tina shrugged. "No big. Just don't get ideas. I'm her tailor cause I make her look amazing and I'm gonna do the same to you." She headed back towards the stairs, quirking a finger at her over her shoulder. "Come into my parlor, my dear."

"Said the spider to the fly," Quinn mumbled under her breath as she followed with Kurt bringing up the rear, Tina's rich laughter filling her ears.

* * *

"You wanted to see me?" Quinn asked softly hours later as she stepped into Santana's office as the late afternoon sun illuminated the room.

The rattle of keys on Santana's keyboard paused as the woman looked up. "Only if you want to be here," she said, nodding at her to close the door. "You may lock it if you'd like. I don't have anything else scheduled but a phone call later today."

She nodded hesitantly before reaching behind her to lock the door with a soft click. Licking her lips, she approached the desk, feeling strangely conscious of how flattering her altered clothing was to her body. "Is there anything in particular you wanted from me?"

"Beyond the usual?" she asked, sitting back in her chair and regarding her. "Come here."

Quinn bit her lip almost shyly as she stepped around the desk, hopping up to sit on the cool marble when Santana patted it. There was a slight thrill of discomfort after her dream earlier, but the circumstances were so different she was able to put it aside. Santana's hands were soft as they smoothed over her bare knees.

"You should show me something," she murmured, eyes roaming appreciatively over the swell of her hips and breasts.

Her lip still caught between white teeth, she smiled almost teasingly, growing more comfortable in the role the woman asked of her. "What would you like me to show you, Ms Lopez?" she asked almost coyly as she reached up to casually start undoing the trail of buttons that did up the front of her breast one by one, gradually exposing more and more of her breasts having foregone a bra when she'd made the decision to try and please the other woman in Tina's dressing room.

A low growl of desire slipped from her lips as she sat back in her chair, letting Quinn's legs dangle on either side of hers. "Show me how you like to be touched," she said, her voice low with command, sending a thrill of arousal through the blonde as she finished undoing the buttons and let the top slide off her shoulders.

Quinn's tongue dipped out to moisten her lips as she nodded slowly, reaching down to ease her skirt higher and higher until Santana could see where she'd also conveniently "forgotten" to put her panties back on. Santana's hands settled on her knees, spreading them further apart so she could see the pale folds of the woman's core, flushed with arousal already, a slight trickle of arousal slipping out to slide down the crease. Quinn shifted to pull her skirt free, her dress a thick band around her waist as she spread her legs on the cool marble, her arousal smearing on the high gloss black surface.

"Are you sure you don't want to help?" she asked, her voice a husky rasp as she trailed a finger up her inner thigh to brush over her smooth mound.

Santana shook her head, her eyes never leaving Quinn's hand as her tongue darted out to moisten dry lips. "No... I want to watch."

She nodded, kneading her inner thigh slightly, knowing how much it turned her on to feel the slight scratch of nails on her inner thigh. Her heartbeat picked up as she watched Santana's nostrils flare as she leaned back slightly, letting her fingertip just slide between her folds enough to tease her clit. She shuddered, her other hand coming up to cup a breast - she was certain it was already heavier even if it was still too early to notice - and roll a stiffening nipple between her thumb and forefinger.

"I w-wonder if I'll be able to suckle them when they're bigger," she wondered musingly as she continued teasing her body, drawing a deep groan from Santana as the other woman palmed her erection through her skirt, massaging it as she watched.

Santana watched as Quinn parted her lips and moistened two fingers with her saliva before reaching back down to tease around her entrance before sliding inside with a low moan as her hips rocked, letting her slide in slightly deeper. A shudder ran through her whole body as she pumped in and out, her hand on her breast pinching rougher, drawing the nipple out from the breast as more and more of her arousal slicked the desk beneath her. Her breath quickened as she brought herself closer and closer to climax, her thumb awkwardly rubbing her clit in quick circles as she rode her fingers.

Santana groaned in desperate arousal, deliberately taking her hand from the almost painfully hard erection under her skirt and sitting back in an attempt to regain control as she watched Quinn fall apart on her desk. Eyes half open, hazel dark with lust, Quinn slid her fingers from her core and held them out without thinking, pressing them to Santana's lip thickly coated with her cum. Santana's eyes fluttered shut as let the other woman slide her fingers between her lips to suckle them clean, a tiny smile curling her lips as she listened to the needy groan as her tongue played over the soft skin to clean them completely.

When she pulled away and Santana opened her eyes again, Quinn was sitting submissively on the desk without bothering to hide herself. "W-was that satisfactory?" she asked, her chest heaving as she tried to come down.

"Very," she husked, unable to stop herself from reaching up to cup Quinn's cheek, her thumb brushing over the curve of her cheekbone. "God, if I didn't have this call, I would take you right here. Fuck, I'm so hard for you right now, Quinn."

Biting her lip, Quinn slid off the desk to sink to her knees between Santana's legs. She pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee as she slowly pushed Santana's skirt up and slid her special underwear off, allowing her erection to spring free with a low groan of relief from the other woman. "Take your call," she whispered, kissing her way up her thighs, her hands gently kneading tanned skin. "I'll take care of this."

Santana's slim fingers slid into her hair, but before she could say anything, the phone rang announcing the call she'd been expecting. She groaned impatiently, but Quinn slipped her lips around the head of her cock and gave a light suckle, swirling her tongue under her foreskin in a way that made her nostrils flare and forced her to take a deep breath to calm herself.

"Don't think I'll forget you," she warned, picking up the phone. "Lopez here."

Santana settled back in her chair, running her hand through Quinn's hair as the blonde slowly suckled her during her conversation. Her eyes were on the other woman as she ran her tongue over her trembling cock and casually pumped it occasionally as she toyed with her foreskin with her teeth. She knew she wasn't giving her call enough concentration, but she doubted the man on the other end would have minded if he'd known what was happening.

Quinn, for her part, appreciated Santana's fixation on personal hygiene as she took the soft sacks of her testicles in her mouth and suckled before nipping her way gently up the seam of the cock to the head again. Licking her lips and taking a deep breath, she slowly started sliding Santana's impressive erection into her mouth, taking her deeper and deeper inch by slow inch until her lips pressed against the softly delicate skin at the base. Mouthing it awkwardly as she swallowed to massage the head with muscles of her throat, she started to slide back off until just the head was gently gripped between her teeth before repeating the procedure.

A little while later, Santana's call was ended and her hand tightened in Quinn's hair to stop her as she fumbled the phone back into it's cradle. "I want you," she husked, pulling her up into her lap and sliding deep into her core was a low moan almost before Quinn knew what was happening.

Quinn's hand shot out to steady herself on Santana's shoulders as the other woman's lips locked around a nipple and startled suckling as she started rocking her hips, sliding in and out. Quinn's moans and gasps of pleasure mingled with Santana's harsh breathing through her nose as she suckled at her while fucking her. Long pale fingers slid into dark hair almost unwillingly, holding her close as she started moving with her, tanned hands warm and strong on her hips, guiding her in an increasing pace as Santana started grunting with effort before stilling after a hard buck up into her.

She could feel the warm fullness of Santana's sperm filling her core as her cock slowly started softening with in her. Her sore nipple slipped from plump red lips with a soft pop as Santana looked up at her. "That was good," she whispered. "I didn't hurt you did I?"

She shook her head, shifting to let the cock slide out of her in a rush of fluid. "N-no... I should clean up..."

"That's what janitors are for. Just stay here for now," she said softly, hesitating before gently kissing the abused nipple, her arms settling around Quinn's waist as the setting sun gradually darkened the office.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Just to be clear, I cherry picked the symptoms of aromatase excess syndrome to achieve the results I wanted for this fic. This is _not_ a common adaptation and most male born people with AES identify as male. Santana just doesn't.

* * *

**Chapter Six **

It was nearly thirty years ago when Maribel Lopez was first able to hold the blanket wrapped bundle of her baby boy and see him for the first time. He was perfect with his little tuft of black fuzz on the top of his head and his little fists curled under his chin - once he finally stopped screaming unhappily that is. She'd never heard of aromatase excess syndrome. Never realized her husband's family carried a particular genetic mutation that appeared now and then.

All she knew was that her son, her baby Santana, was _perfect_.

* * *

Eight years later, cancer had devoured her body, leaving her in a wasted shell of her former self and bound to her bed. She'd insisted on it being moved closer to the window so she could watch out the window onto the yard where Santana would play with his friend Kurt every afternoon they were allowed to. She'd never been quite sure about that friendship - Kurt's father, Burt, was her husband's assistant and the family butler after all - but she'd never been able to deny her son anything.

Santana hated that his mother was sick. He missed playing with her and being picked up by her for her hugs. He missed brushing the horses and the smell of cinnamon cookies baking - especially when she let him have a little piece of dough as a treat. He missed gardening and everything else.

But most of all, he missed her.

Kurt was his best friend and a lot of the time, he was almost like his mom - wanting to play tea party or dress up - but it just wasn't the same. So he'd play with Kurt, laughing and running around in the sunlight under her tired but still watchful gaze every afternoon. And every night when he knelt beside his bed to pray, he'd ask God to make her better.

But God didn't listen.

* * *

Santana _hated_ doctors.

She'd never had a positive experience with one. The first one she'd met had poked her with needles forever to give her shots and take blood work and had generally been grumpy over the years as her primary. The second had told her her mother couldn't play anymore.

He'd later been the one to tell her she'd never get to _see_ her again either.

It was a doctor who'd been responsible for one of the most terrifying conversations of her life happening because he'd told her father that she was developing as a woman despite her primary genitalia. The same one who'd embarrassed and insulted her when she'd tried to say she was a girl - though she'd later found out her father had reported him to the medical board for his treatment of her and he'd lost his license. A different one had come into the waiting room where she'd been anxiously waiting to tell her they'd lost her father on the operating table.

She hated everything about them.

It'd been two weeks since Quinn - and the alarming idea of her being a _father_ - had come into her life and as much as she hated doctors, she supposed it was only appropriate to accompany the woman to her first ultrasound. The slight swell of a growing child was beginning to become evident on Quinn's abdomen and Santana could admit a growing curiosity about the child inside. Even if she was still apprehensive on being called anyone's _father_.

The technician who came in to prep Quinn for the ultrasound - helping her get her shirt up high enough and lowering her pants down far enough that Santana had to restrain herself from growling at the man - hardly helped at all. The last thing she wanted was a cheerfully smiling man with his hands all over the mother of _her_ child. She especially hadn't wanted the almost knowing roll of Quinn's eyes when she'd gripped her hand possessively, glaring at the man until he left the room.

Luckily, Quinn knew enough to keep her mouth shut and not point out Santana's glaringly obvious insecurity.

She was fretting and looking nervous - another thing that Santana hated - as they waited for the doctor to arrive. Knowing what to expect gave Quinn and advantage that Santana didn't have, not that the other woman intended on telling her that. But there was still something intriguing about seeing her ruffled,

"Hello, ladies," the doctor said _finally_ arriving. "I understand you're here to get your first glance at your bundle of joy."

By this point, Santana had worked herself up so hard she wasn't sure if she was going to scream or puke. "Yes. Now, if you could get on with it?"

He chuckled softly, setting his clipboard aside and pulling on gloves before picking up the tube of lube from the warmer. "First time to the rodeo?" he asked Quinn, nodding at Santana. She smiled slightly and gave him a little nod. "That's alright, we'll take good care of ya'll here."

Santana glared at him. "Why don't you try less small talk and more of your job?" she snapped.

"Feisty one," he murmured, turning to Quinn's stomach. "Okay, this might be a little chill despite being in the warmer," he warned, squirting some of the blue gel onto her stomach. "Oh," he added, noticing the faded stretch marks from Beth, "it's not _your_ first time though, isn't it."

She hesitated a moment before shaking her head no. Santana's attention shot to her, her brows narrowing in a vee over her eyes. She hadn't known about a previous child and it was hard to keep her mind from wandering to other people - other _clients_ - Quinn might have had.

"Now, if you'll just look at the screen" the doctor said, sounding slightly distracted as he manipulated the wand over Quinn's baby bump.

Distracted by her thoughts as her yes panned over the screen taking a moment to turn fuzzy greenish grey shapes into a baby. When she finally managed to see it, she gasped softly, unconsciously squeezing Quinn's hand. "T-that... that's..."

"That's your baby," the doctor said softly, guiding the wand to another location before smiling at Santana. "Want to hear the heartbeat?"

Her eyes widened slightly and she nodded almost without realizing it. The doctor turned a knob on the machine and a quick, rhythmic pulsing sound filtered out through the speakers.

"Oh my God," she whispered, staring blankly at the monitor as the sound of her child's heart filled her ears. "That's... I... we..." She tore her gaze away from the monitor to look down at Quinn, feeling a mixture of awe, shock, and protectiveness that she'd never felt before. "W-we did..."

Quinn bit her lip before nodding slightly.

"Oh my God," she whispered again, turning her eyes back to the monitor. "My baby..."

"Do you want to know the gender? Your little one here is looking like they might want to be a bit of a show off today."

Quinn looked up at Santana curiously. "Do you want to know?" she asked softly.

Santana shook her head, remembering how convinced her mother was that she'd had a son. "No... no, I don't want to."

The doctor looked up in surprise for a moment. "You don't?"

"No," she snapped. "How hard is that to understand?"

He flinched slightly then shrugged. "Ah, well, some folks like the surprise I suppose. Alright," he added a moment later, "everything looks good here, Quinn, so how about we get this goo off you?"

Santana tolerated him wiping the blue gel off with a paper towel, but when he went to help adjust her pants, her hand flashed out and she grabbed his wrist. "I would _prefer_ to help my child's mother with her clothes _myself_, thank you."

The doctor gave her a weird look before shrugging. "Whatever you want. Talk to the secretary about setting up another appointment in a few weeks," he added heading out of the room.

Quinn sighed. "You didn't have to try and scare him. He was just doing his job."

"His job doesn't involve touching your clothing," she snapped, helping Quinn up and adjusting her clothes to her satisfaction. "I don't like people like him and I would appreciate you not bringing this up again. Besides," she added with a scowl, "I want to know how many _other_ clients you've done _this_ for."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Ma'am, I -"

She cut her off. "Don't call me that. I'm tired of you calling me the same thing that one of my _employees_ call me."

"I... t-then what should I call you?" she asked, afraid to meet her eyes.

"I have a _name_. Or are you too afraid to use it?" Santana snapped, her eyes flashing with anger.

"N-no, Miss Santana," she whispered, trying to bow her head before Santana caught her chin and made her meet her eyes.

"Tell me how many other clients you've carried children for," she hissed, her fingers tight on Quinn's chin. "Tell me!"

"N-none!" she gasped. "P-please! Stop! You're h-hurting me!"

As soon as stop had left Quinn's lips, Santana had released her and backed across the room. "Oh my God," she whispered, looking shocked at her own actions. "Oh my God, Quinn... I'm sorry. Did I truly hurt you?"

Quinn rubbed at her chin, looking at Santana was such fear that it made the other woman's heart ache. "N-no... no, I suppose not. Please, don't..."

"I won't," she shook her head trying to emphasis her denial of ever doing such a thing again. "You have my word. I'll never touch you like that again. I promise."

She nodded slowly, not sure if she believed her or not. "I had a child," she admitted softly, keeping a wary eye on Santana. "Beth. My daughter. I... she was born before I... I signed up for this."

Santana's lips thinned but she managed to keep her reactions in check. "Her father?"

"My boyfriend at the time," she whispered, looking down at the floor as she tried to swallow her shame. "I... he... I was fifteen when it happened and... it was hard."

"He didn't support you?"

She snorted. "Noah Puckerman is a _sex shark_," she muttered. "He had _needs_ and since I wasn't providing, he went... elsewhere."

"Asshole." Santana spat at the floor before walking over to offer her hand. "Allow me to help you home?"

Quinn nodded, taking her hand and letting her help her off the counter and out to make their next appointment before taking her home.

* * *

Santana was sitting in her vanity chair in a bathrobe when Quinn came into her room that night. She could see the nervous anxiety in the other woman's body as she watched her walk in. She regretted losing control of her temper the way she had, how easy it was to try and force the other woman to tell her what she wanted to know. She rubbed her fingers together, hating that she could still almost feel the give of Quinn's soft skin over the hardness of her jaw.

"You don't have to be afraid of me," she said softly as Quinn's pace slowed to a stop in the middle of the room. "I'm sorry I let my anger and jealousy get the better of me. I shouldn't have done that and I apologize. I swear to you that it will never happen again. You have my word."

"You promised before that you wouldn't hurt me," Quinn said softly.

Santana winced at the reminder but nodded. "You're right. I broke my promise. If you would give me a chance though, I'd like to prove that I'm not a horrible monster. I just," she looked down at the ground, shaking her head, hating to admit weakness, "I hated the idea of you being with someone else. It's stupid. You're a professional. I'm sorry."

Quinn walked over and slowly knelt in front of her, taking a deep breath. "I might be a professional, but you treat me like a person." She glanced aside with a wince. "Albeit a person you enjoy tying up and fucking into whatever nearby surface happens to be handy, but... a person."

Santana looked up at her, doing her best to hide her expression behind a blank facade. "You _are_ a person. Not treating you like one would be wrong."

"Perhaps," she said softly. "But... most of my clients wouldn't agree with you. I've always been a _thing_ to them. A beautiful blonde body for them to stick their cock in until they got off and then toss away. You've never treated me like that. Not really. So," she took another deep breath and stood, slipping her dress from her shoulders and leaving herself naked before Santana's lustful gaze, "I'll give you that chance, but please don't hurt me like you did again."

"Never," Santana promised, her eyes roaming over Quinn's body, drinking in her curves as she reached out to stroke gentle fingers over the hard swell of Quinn's growing baby bump. "You're the mother of my child, professional or not. I won't grab you like that again."

Quinn nodded, sinking back down to her knees and running her hands up Santana's thighs, parting her robe gradually higher. "Thank you," she whispered, recalling a word Kurt had used to refer to Santana once, "mistress."

Santana groaned low in her throat at the title, feeling an surge of arousal rush to the pit of her stomach causing her cock to twitch. She reached down to gently stroke her fingers along Quinn's jaw. "No, beautiful. Not like this."

She stood, raising Quinn up and leading her over to the bed. Quinn followed, her lip caught between her teeth as she let Santana guide her up onto the bed to lay spread eagled in the center. It was so like their first time that she felt a certain thrill of anticipation as Santana bound first her wrists, then her ankles, leaving her spread out on the bed.

"I'm going to teach you to enjoy this," Santana said, brushing blonde hair away from Quinn's face. "There is pleasure in being bound if you know how to find it."

Quinn swallowed hard before nodding. "Y-yes, mistress," she whispered, unable to mistake the jolt of pleasure that went over Santana's face at the word.

"You have no idea what it means to me to hear you say that," she husked, stroking the backs of her fingers along Quinn's cheek. "When I bind you, you belong to me. Remember that, Quinn. Right now and until I unbind you, you're _mine_ to do with as I please."

She nodded again, closing her eyes. "Yes, mistress."

"But the rules still apply." Santana's breath was hot against her ear as she whispered soft and low. "_Slow_ when it's getting too much and _stop_ or _no_ when you can't take any more. Understand?"

Quinn's breath left her in a aroused exhale. "Yes, mistress. I understand."

"Good."

Santana began at her feet, caressing toes and ankles with gentle kisses, licks, and strokes of her fingers. She nipped gently at her heel and the sensitive base of Quinn's feet, making the other woman shiver. She took her time as she moved up her body, taking care to cover every inch of her lover's skin with a kiss, lick, nip, or caress.

She paid especial focus on her knees once she noticed how Quinn shivered with each brush over them. Nibbling gently at soft skin, she suckled softly around the knee cap before sliding her tongue beneath her leg to lap at the back of her knee causing Quinn to squirm as best she could within the confines of the bondage and whimper desperately. Santana laughed softly at the response before moving to the other knee to repeat her actions.

Once she satisfied herself with Quinn's knees, Santana moved higher. Her lips and teeth suckled deep bruises into her inner thighs, marking a trail to her core. She breathed deeply of the heady musk of her lover's arousal seeping from her spread folds before letting it out slowly to wash over Quinn's hot core. She pressed a kiss to her mound with a tiny smile.

"Soon," she whispered, caressing Quinn's thighs with her fingernails in light scratches.

"Santana... M-mistress," Quinn whimpered, "please... please touch me..."

"In time," Santana promised with a smirk Quinn wanted to call positively wicked in that moment. "Be patient."

Moving higher, she dragged her lips over the firm resistance of the slight bulge curving out Quinn's stomach. She focused on the soft skin, tracing stretch marks with the tip of her tongue and teasing kisses. When her explorations finally reached Quinn's navel, she nibbled around the rim, sharp teeth teasing and hinting at more.

"Hi," she whispered against Quinn's stomach. "You don't know me yet, but I'm your," there was a paused as she struggled for a word to use, "other mom." Her lips brushed over pale skin as she spoke, making Quinn squirm as pale hands gripped the dark rope wrapping her wrists and she fought to keep silent as Santana spoke. "You're going to be amazing, you know that? A Lopez. I thought I was going to be the last, but now there's you too. That's really special. _You're_ really special."

Quinn didn't know what to think or how to react as she watched Santana talk with their unborn child, her dark head framed between the swells of Quinn's growing breasts as she kissed over her stomach. She'd never experienced a person who'd fathered a child being so demonstrative about the child - before or after they were born. Despite having offered his couch - in his _mom's basement_ - when she was kicked out, the most Puck had done as a father was toss a miniscule amount of money her way - _after_ purchasing his luxury items.

But Santana was different. She didn't feel the nervous fear she'd felt with some clients - or certain members of the firm she belonged to - when bonds came out when Santana tied her. She couldn't really pinpoint just _why_ that was, but even at her roughest, Santana had never tried to hurt her or tied her so tightly she didn't believe she could get free.

The feeling of her lips and teeth caressing her skin, marking her as Santana's sent jolts of electric _want_ to her core. She whimpered, catching her lip between her teeth almost painfully hard against the increasing need to be touched. To be _taken_.

"S-santana," she panted, her hips bucking up to meet a pressure the other woman wasn't providing. "Mistress, _please_!" she begged, whining with need.

Santana looked up from where she'd been covering her stomach with kisses as she gradually moved higher. "You must learn patience, Quinn," she teased before lathing the straining peaks of Quinn's breasts with her tongue and blowing across the moistened skin gently. "It's crazy how rewarding it can be."

"Please!" she choked out, her heart racing as she watched Santana's plump red lips surround a nipple and felt the first tingling rush of suction from those full lips.

Santana's smile was almost wicked around the captured nipple as she teased over pebbled skin with her teeth, swirling her tongue over the tip. She suckled hard, drawing more and more of her breast into her mouth until the entire areola was within her mouth and Quinn was all but screaming as she writhed under her. She released her with an audible pop, a string of saliva still connecting her lips to the over stimulated breast.

"Mine," she growled possessively as she slid a hand over the curve of Quinn's stomach. "No one else's." As her lips claimed Quinn's other nipple, her fingers slipped between dripping wet folds to stroke over a clit so desperate for attention that Quinn sobbed in relief at the pressure, doing her best to buck her hips up into her hand.

"Yours," she moaned desperately, pressing her heels into the bed to try and angle her hips up in a futile attempt at encouraging penetration. "Fuck me," she panted, "oh God... please... _please_..."

Santana's hard cock slid teasingly along her thigh by her knee as she continued to torture her breasts with her lips, teeth and tongue, but it crept no closer to give Quinn the release she craved. Her fingers slid through the silken fluid coating Quinn's thighs and folds, but only caressed her clit and teased at her entrance without penetration. Whenever she thought Quinn was getting close to climax, she'd back off, leaving her entirely for several minutes to give them both time to cool off. After nearly two hours of this, Quinn was a sobbing wreck writhing in a growing puddle of her own arousal in the middle of the bed, incoherent begging pouring from her lips as she pulled on the ropes holding her, her clit and nipples sore and aching from the amount of attention they'd received and her breasts covered in nips and the occasional mark.

Santana finally abandoned her game to crawl up, her own taut nipples raking over Quinn's in a way that made the girl beneath her sob. Hovering over her, taking in the sight of the woman flush with arousal beneath her as she reached down to line the head of her achingly hard cock with her entrance. "Mine," she whispered again, leaning in to capture her lips in a roughly possessive kiss as she slid home, arching her back to avoid crushing the swell of child between them.

She braced her hands on the bed on either side of Quinn's head as she thrust, keeping their lips locked, her tongue pressing inside to explore Quinn's mouth with pressing need as she rocked above her, pushing their breasts against each other. Quinn screamed into the kiss, her nails digging into the rope as the waves of pleasure cresting over her pushed her higher and higher without coming. The ropes around the bedposts at the end of the bed strained against the pull of her legs as her body tried instinctively to close them around the overwhelming feeling of being penetrated while so incredibly sensitive.

Santana growled into the kiss as she thrust, struggling with her own need to let go after so long refusing it. Even rubbing one out in one of her little breaks had barely helped give her control over her overwhelming desire to possess the other woman. Her balls clenched tight, on the verge of release as she kept up the punishingly desperate pace that had the bed rocking despite it's heavy foundation, the headboard banging loudly against the wall with each thrust.

Finally she couldn't take it any more and ripped her lips from Quinn to thrust hard once, twice more and shoot her load deep into her core with a strangled cry, feeling the warmth of her semen forcing itself up along the sides of her shaft to overflow out of Quinn's channel. Quinn sobbed desperately for breath, her eyes clenched shut and nails dug so hard into the rope it was fraying as her back arched, her own climax sending a rush of fluid squirting out of her body to splash against Santana's flat stomach as her walls clamped down almost painfully hard on her cock.

They shook together through the rush of Quinn's climax. Somewhere in the midst of it, Quinn lost consciousness for a few minutes, unable to hold on with so many sensations coursing through her. Finally though, her body slumped back in relaxation against the bed and Santana's trapped member was finally allowed to slip free in a rush of fluids. She all but collapsed on top of Quinn, barely remembering at the last moment to roll to the side and not crush the baby.

"That was," she panted, struggling with her own post-climactic high, "more intense than I thought..." Reaching up, she fumbled at the ropes with trembling fingers until she finally managed to get them undone, letting Quinn's arms lay slack on the bed while she shakingly moved to untie her ankles. "Need to get proper cuffs with buckles," she mumbled. "This rope shit is a pain in the ass after..." Finally getting Quinn untied, she crawled back up onto the bed properly and wrapped herself around the still unconscious woman, gently stroking her short blonde hair and murmuring soft apologies for being rough and hurting her earlier.

When Quinn finally returned to herself, it was to soft whispers of how well she'd taken the session and how beautiful she was. Santana was being gentle, relaxed alongside of her in a way she hadn't since that first morning after. Quinn shivered, but let Santana's soft words and gentle caresses soothe away the buzzing tension that followed her climax, relaxing in the warmth of her embrace. After a few minutes though, she tried to move to get up.

"Where are you going?" Santana asked confusedly.

"My room... I need to sleep," she whispered, trying to scrape up the energy to get up.

For a moment, Santana thought about telling her no, that she could stay, that she _should_ stay. Then she remembered who they were. Sighing softly, she disengangled herself from Quinn and stood, moving to pull on her robe before picking Quinn's up off the ground.

"What are you doing?" Quinn asked, having watched Santana move around the room with growing confusion.

She held out Quinn's robe and helped her slide it on. "Escorting you back to your room. Consider it," she hesitated slightly before offering her arm, "part of my atonement for my behavior at the doctor's office."

Still confused and uncertain, Quinn took the offered support and let Santana help her back to her room, her weak and trembling legs grateful for the additional support. At her door, Santana paused and looked at her for a long moment before leaning in and kissing her.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For not leaving."

With that, she was gone, the sound of her bedroom door closing the only sign that she'd been there. Quinn brushed a finger over her lips, not sure how to take the strange night as she slipped back into her own room to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Just another reminder that I've played very fast and loose with the actual symptoms of Santana's condition. Her symptoms are _not_ standard or remotely close to average.

* * *

Santana was fifteen when he had his first sexual experience - and an awakening of an entirely different nature as well.

He'd never expected his body to develop the way it had when puberty hit. His penis and testicles growing bigger and the hair down there and under his arms, that he'd expected from sex ed class. But he hadn't expected the way the feminine curve of his hips became accentuated. Or the swell of breasts in his chest. He'd had to transfer schools when it became evident just how different he was, but when his father had handed him a pamphlet about breast reduction surgery, he'd handed it back with a small shake of his head.

He didn't know what he was when he looked in the mirror anymore - not really. When his pants were on, he knew he looked like a girl even when naked. An a really pretty one too. But when his pants were off and he stood naked before the mirror, even an erection of his impressively sized dick didn't hide his femininity. And in his mind, it was becoming harder and harder to keep using the pronouns he'd been taught to use his whole life to refer to himself.

Kissing Kurt... that was an accident.

They'd been rolling around in the hayloft of the stable - there hadn't been any horses in there since they'd buried his mom or really any hay for that matter - roughhousing and laughing in the sun the way they always did between dressing up dolls or having tea in Kurt's corner of the loft. It was their compromise. They'd play house type games sometimes and more athletic ones other times. That day the chosen game had been tag, which had somehow turned into a tickle fight.

Later, he wouldn't be able to tell how Kurt had ended up pinned under him, or how he'd gone from laughing to leaning in and kissing his best friend's soft looking lips. When Kurt didn't push him off after a moment, he'd continued the kiss awkwardly, closing his eyes and moving his lips the way they did in the movies, but it didn't seem to make anything better. After a moment, he pulled away, a blush darkening his cheeks.

"S-sorry," he muttered, scrambling off when he realized another part of him had decided to make itself known.

Kurt shook his head, blinking at him in dazed surprise. "No... that was... that was n-nice," he whispered, watching him. "I... I think I liked it."

"Really?" Santana asked, looking at him uncertainly.

"Yeah," he said softly, scooting closer and inadvertently drawing attention to the bulge growing in his own neatly pressed slacks. "I mean... it was nice, you know? Do you... do you think kissing's always like that? Um, k-kissing girls I mean," he hurried to qualify.

Santana shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe?" He glanced at him shyly. "Wanna try again?"

"Yeah," Kurt whispered, crawling over to kiss him again as Santana leaned against the wall of the loft.

This time was a little better, but not by much. It excited him, but it wasn't as exciting as it looked in the movies. When Kurt shifted his hand to catch his balance and brushed over his erection though, he groaned helplessly.

"D-did that hurt?" the smaller boy whispered, biting his lip as he pulled away, his eyes focused on Santana's crotch.

He shook his head, trembling slightly. "N-no... felt... felt kinda good. Like weird good, but... good. You know?"

"Kinda," he said softly, drawing his fingers along the inseam of Santana's jeans before raising his eyes to where Santana's breasts filled out his shirt. "Can...can I see them?"

Santana frowned in confusion. "What? My tits?" When Kurt nodded, he shrugged and undid his shirt, reveal the pert young breasts of a teen girl - unrestrained by a bra since he'd yet to find the courage to go get one.

Kurt licked his lips as he reached out without asking to cover one with a hand, squeezing gently. "Soft," he whispered, watching in surprise as the nipples responded to his touch as he swiped his thumb over them. "Oh wow...I wonder if girls are like this."

"P-probably," Santana said, his voice wavering from the arousal Kurt's touch was sending coursing through his body, making him painfully hard. "F-fuck!"

He fumbled at his jeans, working the belt open and pulling down the zipper to get some relief from the pressure. Sighing in relief, he relaxed back against the wall as he managed to fumble his hard length free of his pants. Kurt stared in unabashed wonder at his length and width, biting his lip as his own cock twitched in his pants.

"It's so big," he whispered, rubbing his hand on his slacks.

"Yeah?" Santana whispered, rolling his head to look at him. "I thought it was pretty, you know... small."

Kurt shook his head. "No way. You're big, San. Really big. C-can I... can I t-touch it?"

He swallowed and nodded hesitantly, looking down between his breasts bare torso a heavy drop of precum was oozing from his uncut head. Kurt's hand seemed even paler than usual as his slender fingers wrapped around his tan length and squeezed experimentally. Santana let out a low groan, his eyes falling closed as Kurt slid his hand over him.

"You're really big," he breathed, watching his hand slide along Santana's shaft fixedly. "Way bigger than me."

"Can't be," he mumbled, reaching up to heft one of his breasts without opening his eyes, just letting himself feel the sensation of another hand stroking his dick. "Got these."

The sound of a zipper being lowered caught his attention and his eyes widened in surprise once he opened them and saw Kurt using his free hand to pull out his own hard five and a half inches. The boy swallowed, a blush coloring his pale cheeks as he glanced up at Santana through thick lashes. His free hand was trembling as he reached over and took one of Santana's hands, tentatively pressing it to his member.

"You're bigger than me," he whispered, biting his lip as Santana wrapped his fingers around his member and tugged gently. "Can... can we do this?" he asked, his voice shaking.

Santana nodded, watching Kurt's face as he squeezed the smaller penis and drew his hand along the shaft, collecting the precum in his palm as he stroked. "Yeah," he breathed, his hips bucking up into Kurt's hand as they stroked each other off. "F-fuck that feels good..."

"Yeah?" Kurt asked softly, watching his hand. "F-feels," he let out a soft grunt, his stomach muscles trembling slightly, "f-feels... wow..."

Santana let out a ragged laugh as he felt his balls tighten up against his shaft. "Y-yeah... better than j-just my hand," he mumbled before his hips bucked again and he came unexpectedly, his cum splashing up over his check. "F-fuck!"

Kurt whined softly as his own orgasm came, shooting out over Santana's wrist, dripping down the tanned skin like a bracelet. "S-sorry..."

Santana shook his head as he let go of Kurt and pulled off his shirt to mop himself up before leaning back against the wall of the loft, breathing heavily as he stared blankly up at the rafters. "Don't worry about it."

"Santana," Kurt's voice came softly a few moments later, "can I tell you something? Something... something important," he added, sounding frightened.

He shrugged. "Yeah. You know you can tell me anything."

"I, um..." He bit his lip, looking down ashamedly. "I think I'm gay."

Santana looked over at him in confusion. "Because of... what just happened?" he asked worriedly.

Kurt shook his head. "N-no... I've, um... I've thought so for a while."

"Oh..." He turned his attention back to the rafters. After a long moment, he finally spoke again. "I think I'm a girl." A strangled laugh from beside him drew his attention. "What?"

"A _girl_?" Kurt laughed sadly again. "Of course you are. I'm just... I'm just stupid, aren't I?"

"Huh?" Santana turned and knelt beside him, reaching out to cup his face. "What do you mean? No you're not. You're one of the smartest guys I know!"

"Yeah, smart _gay_ guy who's been crushing on his _girl_ best friend forever," he choked out, tears starting to trickled down his face.

"O-oh... oh, Kurt... We can..."

He cut her off. "No. Don't. I..." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before smiling sadly up at her. "I'm gonna find someone amazing who's a guy and loves me." He cupped her hand against his cheek, turning to kiss the palm. "I'm not gonna mess up our friendship cause I want too much," he insisted.

"Kurt..."

He shook his head, smiling at her. "I didn't say I wouldn't use this afternoon as mental porn though," he added with a lopsided smirk.

Santana laughed sadly. "Damn straight. My first kiss and first handjob," she said softly, leaning in to brush her lips against his again. "You're gonna make some guy really happy someday."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," he joked.

"Already got me in your pants," she teased, drawing an actual laugh out of him.

* * *

Kurt's brisk knock at her office door jerked her out of her daydream. Looking back over her shoulder from where she'd been looking out the window at the ivy covered brick of the stable nostalgically, she gestured at him to come in. She stretched as she turned back to her desk and picked up a pen to get back to work.

"What can I do for you, Kurt?" she asked, as he came in.

"It's about Quinn," he said, not bothering with any preamble. "Santana, you _have_ to be more lenient with her."

She frowned for a moment then sighed softly, setting the pen down before looking up at him. "Her chin bruised?"

He nodded tersely, his lips pressed together in a thin line. "You cannot treat her like that if you want her to stay!"

"I know." She held up a hand to cut him off. "No, Kurt. I _know_, okay? I made a mistake. I," she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "I found out she'd had another child and -"

"Got irrationally jealous?" he offered with a wry smirk.

She glared at him. "I swear to God if you weren't my best friend sometimes..." She shook her head. "Yes, okay? I got... jealous."

"Are you falling for this girl?" he asked worriedly, folding his arms over his chest. "Because you know you just hired her for her... services, right?"

Santana's lips thinned. "Yes, Kurt. I'm aware. Thank you. I..." She looked away to the window again. "I don't know. Would it be so bad if I were?"

He shrugged. "I suppose not, but if you're not careful, she's going to hurt you."

"I know." She sighed softly, shaking her head. "I know." Looking down at her hands for a long moment, she sighed and glanced up at him. "Will you please give her a tour of the grounds when you have time? I believe the gardens will be pleasant or... maybe the stable."

He cocked his head at her. "The entire grounds?"

"The old house is off limits, of course," she said, rolling her eyes and returning to her paperwork. "As for the rest... she can have the run of it."

Kurt recognized the dismissal for what it was. "Very good, ma'am. I'll see to it."

"Oh and Kurt?" she said just as he reached the door.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Thanks," she said with a sad lopsided smile. "I appreciate your concern."

He nodded with a little smile of his own. "It's my pleasure, ma'am," he said, stepping out of the office and closing the door behind him.

* * *

"How can she afford this entire place?" Quinn asked, looking around the garden in unabashed awe. "This... it's amazing, Kurt."

Kurt smiled as he paced along beside her. "This estate has been in the Lopez family for generations. Every generation has added something. These gardens were added by her grandfather while the orchard over there was her great-grandparents," he explained, gesturing to the neat rows of trees on the other side of the garden from them.

"And her parents?" she asked curiously.

"The stable," he said, nodding towards the brick building. "Her mother was an accomplished equestrienne when she met Ms Lopez's father and that interest didn't wane upon their marriage."

"Can we see it?" Quinn asked hopefully, intrigued by the idea of something Santana's mother had been a part of creating.

Kurt nodded, gesturing towards the path out of the garden. "Of course. If you'll just follow me?"

They walked quietly along the rose lined gravel pathway together. Kurt's hands were folded behind him as he walked, but Quinn cradled the gentle swell of her stomach. She'd been becoming more protective since seeing the child on the ultrasound's monitor - she refused to admit that any of it was due to how Santana had developed a new found habit of spending a part of their time together speaking to the child in her womb.

"Tell me about Santana's mother?" she asked as they walked.

Kurt glanced over at her with a raised brow. "Mrs Lopez? What about her?"

Quinn shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know anything about Santana or her family, but I'm carrying part of it. I just... I want to know who my baby's coming from."

"Ah." He walked along in silence for a moment, organizing his thoughts. "I'm afraid I didn't know her very well. She passed away when Ms Lopez and I were still fairly young."

"You grew up together?"

He nodded. "Yes. My father served her father until he passed away. He runs the mechanic shop in town now, but I grew up here as Ms Lopez's companion."

"Oh..." She looked confused, making him laugh softly.

"It's not common, no, if that's what you're wondering. It was simply convenience." He shrugged as they walked. "If you haven't noticed, the estate is rather out of the way and there aren't too many children around. I was simply a convenient playmate at first. As we grew older and became confidants, it was only natural that I would take the role my father had held with hers when he passed away."

"Both her parents are gone?" she asked worriedly, stroking over her stomach nervously.

He nodded. "Cancer and... well, they say a man can't die of a broken heart, but I'd certainly say that's a lie when it came to Mr Lopez. He was bereft without his wife. It was very tragic the way he wasted away once Santana reached adulthood. Ah," he said, stopping beside the red-painted wooden door in the side of the ivy covered building, "here we are."

She waited patiently for him to lift the latch and push open the heavy door before following him out of the warm sunlight into the cool of the stable. The inside was lit only from the high windows, sunlight filtering in through grimy glass and creating beams for dust motes to dance in before Kurt flicked the switch that powered on the grimy bulbs. The old fluorescent tubes buzzed as they powered up, throwing cool blue light over the stalls' thick, oak walls and gates.

Kurt murmured something about needing to have the electrician out to check the ballasts, but she wasn't listening. She wandered down the dusty concrete floor, one hand cradling her stomach as the other traced over the smooth brass of nameplates engraved with the names of animals that no longer paced and slept in the empty stalls. The still air was thick with an almost feeling of anticipation as her slim fingers disturbed the dust that had grown over everything in the years since anyone had been in there.

She stepped into the tack room, pulling a white cover off of an English saddle badly in need of care. "Why isn't this in use anymore?"

Kurt paused in the doorway with a shrug, not wanting to dirty his clothes any more than necessary. "The stables were Ms Lopez's mother's passion. When she passed... I'm afraid her father didn't want the memories any longer."

"That's so sad," she murmured, opening up a cabinet and smiling to see a glass bottle of leather oil that looked like it was still good with a stack of cloths. "Do," she looked over her shoulder hopefully, "do you think Santana would mind if I spent some time out her cleaning up?"

He blinked in surprise but shrugged, holding his hands up. "I suppose she wouldn't mind, so long as you don't engage in any behavior which would endanger the child."

"I won't, don't worry," she reassured him with a smile, pulling down the bottle and cloths happily. "I'll just start in here with this saddle. It's nice and cool in here and there's a stool and window..."

"Very good, ma'am." Kurt nodded with a tiny smile, reaching into his jacket pocket and removing a small device on a chain that he offered her. "For if there's any problem."

She raised a brow at the boxy little device before slipping it around her neck. "Life Alert?"

"Somewhat similar, yes. It'll call to the nearest phone amongst the staff and alert them to your need for assistance and your location if you press it."

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise before she tucked it under the collar of her dress. "I'll keep that in mind, Kurt. Thank you."

He nodded again, backing out of the tack room. "Dinner will be in a few hours. Do try not to forget"

"Thanks," she murmured, pulling a stool over to sit beside the saddle and start working oil into the leather.

* * *

When Santana came out looking for her a few hours later, the tack room was redolent with the smell of neatsfoot oil and lemon cleaner. She looked around for a moment in surprise at how much Quinn had accomplished. For a moment, she was transported back to when she was a small child hurrying out to see her mother for a riding lesson after classes before she managed to shake it off.

"I certainly hope you used a cleaner that has no harmful chemicals in it," she said warningly, coming over to stroke a hand down Quinn's back possessively. "I missed you at dinner."

"I'm sorry," she said, biting her lip as she continued working another coat of oil into the saddle's leather. "I was so caught up in this..."

"That you forgot," she murmured, slipping her hands through the ponytail Quinn had tied her hair back in as she leaned in to breath in the smell of her neck combined with the cleaner and oil. "It's understandable I suppose, but I've missed your company, Quinn."

"Did you?" she whispered, shivering slightly at the feeling of Santana's breath, hot on her neck. "I'm sorry for depriving you."

"Are you?" she asked, her lips brushing against the back of her neck. "I think you should show me how sorry you are."

She caught her lower lip between her teeth as she reached to pull the white drop cloth over the oily leather, extending her body in a way that made Santana's hands slide down to her hips. "What would you like me to do, Mistress?"

Santana growled low in her throat at the title, feeling her hardening cock twitch with pleasure in her jeans. "I want you to hold still just like this," she husked.

She dropped to her knees behind the woman as she bent over the saddle and pushed the skirt of her dress up before sliding her hands over the curves of her ass, cupping the cheeks in her hands before slipping her fingers under Quinn's panties and pulling them down to her ankles in one smooth move and helping her out of them. She leaned in to slip the tip of her tongue along the crease at the top of her thigh before sliding her hands down to spread Quinn's thighs, tugging her back slightly to lengthen her back and open her core to Santana's hungry gaze. A low groan of want spilled from her lips as her gaze took in the sight of Quinn's smooth, pink core, already dripping with silken arousal sliding down her thighs.

"Please, Mistress," she whispered, glancing back over her shoulder as she clung to the saddle.

Santana smirked, stroking Quinn's inner thighs with her thumbs. "Tell me what you want."

"Fuck me," she said, biting her lip as she got a better grip on the saddle's stand in preparation for Santana taking her, her heart already beating fast in anticipation.

"Not yet," Santana murmured with an evil smirk as she leaned in to nuzzle at her core. "Not until I know for sure you're _very_ sorry," she added, nipping at her thighs.

Quinn let out a soft squeal and almost jumped away, only the pressure of Santana's hands on her hips held her in place as sharp teeth nipped along her sensitive inner thighs. She spread her legs wider as thick strokes of a hot tongue wiped the arousal coating her thighs away with a whimper from deep in her chest, her hands trembling as she held onto the saddle. Neatly manicured nails dug into her skin and left light lines of sensation as she drew patterns on her lower back and ass as her hands trailed down lower and lower.

She squirmed, biting her lip hard to keep from crying out as those nails raked over her outer folds before slipping between them. Her breath shook as she felt Santana's lips on her ass as the hood of her clit was pushed back before her clit was delicately pinched between two nails and given a light tug. Her eyes flew open at the strength of the stimulation directly to the glans shot through her. A choked cry burst from her lips as she bucked into Santana's hand, a gush of arousal flooding out of her.

"M-mistress, _please_," she sobbed, her hands white knuckles on the saddle as Santana slipped a single finger into her hot core.

"Patience," she whispered, a word Quinn was beginning to feel a special dislike of as her body sang its arousal along every inch of her as lips, fingers, teeth, and nails continued to work her higher and higher.

She trembled, visibly shaking as Santana pulled her finger from her sopping core and replaced it with her lips, drinking deep of her body with a low groan of pleasure. Quinn sobbed with want, letting her forehead rest against the white cloth that was soaking through with neatsfoot oil. Her arousal flowed from her body for Santana, pleading with her for what she needed, but all she got was more fingers.

It was almost a contest to see who could last longer without finalizing, though neither would admit it. Santana loved watching the way Quinn could take her, working in finger after finger until finally her entire fist was inside Quinn, her wrist swallowed up by the woman's stretched out entrance as she roughly fisted her. Quinn's moans and gasps were purely of pleasure as Santana's slender fist rocked her body. But it wasn't enough to push her over, something holding her back.

Finally, Santana could resist no more. Rising to her feet, she undid the zipper of her jeans and pulled her hard cock, precum already dripping from the tip. "I'm going to fuck you now," she murmured, stroking the tip of her cock through Quinn's folds and teasing her agonizingly hard clit with it. "Are you ready for me?"

"Yes," Quinn begged, her voice breaking with sobs. "Yes, oh God, yes. I'm ready. Fuck me. Fuck me, please. Please, I need you inside me..."

Taking pity on her, she lined her head up with her now gaping entrance and slid inside with a roll of her hips, the zipper on her jeans pressing against Quinn's ass shockingly cold against the heat of her skin. She gripped her hip with one hand and pressed down on the small of her back with the other as she began the rolling rhythm she knew could always bring the other woman to climax. She threw her head back as she pounded into her, taking her fast and hard in their mixed urgency, the feeling of being gripped and surrounded by the beautiful blonde almost overwhelming her.

Quinn let herself get lost in the feeling of surrender as Santana took her. It was nothing like her other clients or her _trainers_. There was something about the woman that made her feel safe - like nothing could hurt her - and it was enough to let her just _let go_ and be lost in the sensations of pleasure the other woman brought out in her.

Santana lost control first, coming so hard, she bowed over Quinn's back, her stomach muscles spasming in time with her release as she shot her load deep into Quinn's core. It was somewhere in the midst of that that Quinn finally found her release with a soundless cry, her walls clamping down almost unbelievably tight on Santana's dick as her body milked her for every last bit of semen. One of Santana's arms curled around her waist as the other went to the saddle to cover Quinn's hand almost instinctively.

For several long moments, they stayed like that, bowed over the saddle, joined at the hips until Santana's member finally softened enough to slide from Quinn in a rush of fluid. Santana didn't let go of her though, brushing her lips over her neck and shoulders as she whispered about how amazing Quinn was, how good she'd felt. It was another part of Santana that was different from the others. She never threw her away after getting off.

"I came out her to bring you your dinner," Santana finally admitted with a tiny smirk as they stood, nodding to a covered plate on the table by the door.

"You mean to say you didn't mean to fuck me in the tack room?" Quinn asked, the tiny hint of sardonic humor in her voice making Santana's smile broaden.

"No, but I like to consider that a perk," she said, getting the dish and bringing it over after directing Quinn to sit back down. "And dessert," she added teasingly.

A blush spread quickly over Quinn's cheeks as she looked down at her food. "If you say so."

"I do," she said, nodding before pulling the cover off the saddle again. "Huh. I didn't know we kept my old saddle."

Quinn looked up. "That was yours?"

Santana nodded. "Mmm. I learned to ride with it. It's too small for an adult, but I suppose our child can have it when they're ready to learn." She ran a hand over the saddle's seat, then headed out. "Be sure to come inside after you eat. It's getting cold and I don't want you and the baby to catch a chill."

Quinn watched her go, unable to move at the casual reference to the child being both of theirs instead of just hers.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** No Quinn in this chapter, but I hope you guys don't mind! Plot building!

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

Santana groaned staring at the computer screen. There was simply no way around it. She'd have to do a site visit to try and figure out what was going on at the Boston facility to skew the numbers so far off of predictions.

She pinched the bridge of her nose with a frown. It'd take a couple days - maybe even a week - and she didn't want to leave with Quinn finally starting to really show with their baby, but she didn't see how she had a choice. The Boston numbers were too important to achieving a positive balance - and thus continuing to impress the shareholders - and _someone_ along the way was too clearly either not acknowledging a problem or - worse - _lying_ about it in reports for her to ignore it or push it off into someone else's lap.

Pushing her glasses back up her nose, she reached across the desk and pressed the white call button on her intercom unit. "Grace?"

"Yes, Ms Lopez?" The voice of her admin assistant was wreathed in enough static-y crackle that she made a note to herself to have someone come overhaul the system while she was away.

"Could you call Blaine and arrange for him to come see me as soon as he's available?" she said, barely turning to look at the intercom. "Also, can you make sure he's available for travel as soon as you can arrange a flight to Boston for the two of us? There's a probably I need to see to in person."

"Mr Anderson? Sure, ma'am. Do you want me to call home for you and ask Mr Hummel to bring your travel bag?"

She shook her head. "No, that's alright. I don't expect Blaine to be able to make arrangements to travel until tomorrow morning anyway so I'll take care of letting my family know. Thank you."

"You're welcome." A soft click severed the connection.

Santana sighed, turning back to her screen and letting her fingers rest on the keyboard again as she started working up an itinerary for her and her Director of Security's visit to the Boston facility to get to the bottom of this mess.

* * *

College was something of an eye opener for Santana.

She hadn't realized just how special her father's simple acceptance of her gender not being what he thought was until she got into high school. By then, she could no longer hide how much her body had changed - developing curves not appropriate for a boy though never losing that distinctive bulge in her slacks. The first two weeks in private high school with the classmates she'd gone to school with from kindergarten up were so horrible that her father pulled her out and arranged for her to be privately tutored until the next semester when she was enrolled - as a girl - at Kurt's public high school.

It had been the week before her first day of class when Kurt knocked on her bedroom door and walked in with a brown shipping box and an understanding smile. Having your best friend - who'd also been your first sexual experience - buy you special underwear and teach you to tuck your junk away has got rank pretty high in most awkward situations in the universe, but desperation not to go through the same hell as before was a strong motivator to learning. So she'd learned to wear special underwear and resist reacting when it'd get hard and ache painfully until she could get to a bathroom. A note from her doctor excluding her from having to shower in the locker room and the significant changes her body went through as she became more and more feminine made the rest of high school a relative breeze in comparison to those first weeks.

But she'd been terrified of trying to date in the insular world of high school, so arriving at college - far from anyone she knew - had been like a breath of fresh air.

She'd met Blaine Anderson at freshman orientation. Despite being a fellow freshman, he was a year older than her with an easy smile and surprisingly dapper with his neat red bow tie - even if the combination with the short sleeved black button up, red suspenders, and slightly too short, matching red pants made him look like an old fashioned soda jerk - and slicked back hair. A couple of shared jokes at the awkwardness of the situation and an incident involving a bottle of Coke and an overheated jock soon had Santana laughing more than she had with anyone besides Kurt or her parents before.

It wasn't until the crowds of milling freshmen were starting to disperse back to their dorms that they realized they'd missed the entire orientation in favor of talking with each other. Another point in his favor in her book. It hadn't come as a surprise when he'd asked for her number as he walked her back to her dorm. Or how willingly she'd given it.

When he'd called to arrange a date later that week, she'd smiled and agreed with hardly any second thoughts. Her roommate had rolled her eyes at her excited giggling, but Santana ignored her as she always did. Pizza and a movie might have been juvenile for a first date - purely high school - but it was her first and a cute guy that she actually liked had asked her.

The kiss afterwards hadn't been bad either.

* * *

"I'm not interested in your excuses anymore, Thomas," she snapped into the phone as Blaine peeked around the edge of her office door and knocked. Glancing up, she nodded at him and waved him in. "No, absolutely not. I'll be there soon and I swear to God if you try to hide anything, I'll rip your damn balls off with my bare hands!" she snapped, slamming the phone back down into it's cradle.

"Okay. Wow. You're clearly having a bad day," Blaine said, holding up his hands up defensively. "You want I should come back later?"

"No." She shook her head, gesturing at the seat across from the desk. "Boston's just pissing me off. Sit."

He dropped into the chair almost bonelessly, still boyishly charming years later - though he'd traded his bow ties and suspenders for open necked button ups and leather jackets somewhere along the line. "Mmm. Grace gave me the heads up that we're heading out there. What's going on?"

"What's going on is nearly fifty million dollars mysteriously _vanishing_ and I want to know where the hell it's gone," she growled, slamming her hand down on a folder and shoving it across the desk. "_Someone_ is stealing from me and I want to know yesterday which one of those little numbnuts it is because I'm gonna mount his cock on my freaking wall at this rate."

He let out a low whistle as he flipped the folder open and started looking through the printouts. "Wow. Someone was stupid. So should I arrange a team?" he asked getting out his phone.

She nodded. "I want them completely locked down and shut out of the system. This is beyond the money, it's an outright embarrassment to our company. If we can't even keep track of our _own_ resources, why should any of our clients trust us with theirs?"

He held up his phone. "Already done. I had Bill cut them off and transfer managerial level control to the op center in Barnstable. That won't work long term, but it'll at least give us a little breathing room."

She nodded. "Good. How long until you can get a team out there to physically lock them out?"

"Six hours?" He shrugged. "You're not giving us a lot of notice, so I might have to contract locally. It won't be cheap."

Her lips thinned. "I'd rather take a hit on that than this. I know we're probably mixing the good with the bad here, but..."

"Better to check everyone than guess and fuck up. I get it, San. It's cool." He smiled lopsidedly. "You want me to tell Kurt -"

She threw her hands up, cutting him off. "No, I don't want you to tell your damn boyfriend we're going out of town! I can tell him myself thank you! Why does _everyone_ seem to think I won't tell anyone?!"

He shrugged, ignoring the strength of the outburst. "Cause you usually don't. But hey, you wanna take care of it, that's cool."

"God," she muttered, slumping back in her chair. "I've got a baby coming. I'm gonna be a _mom_... or like, something like that. I can't be immature like that anymore."

"You got a kid coming?" A real smile wreathed Blaine's lips as he sat up. "That's awesome! Who's the lucky lady?"

"Quinn Fabray," she said softly, unaware of the tiny smile curling her lips. "You don't know her so don't ask and," the smile flattened into a warning glare, "I'm _only_ mentioning it because of our past so don't even _think_ of gossiping."

He pantomimed a cross over his chest. "Wouldn't dream of it. But still my college girlfriend and now boss is having a baby! That's _amazing_. When's it due?"

"You're an ass," she groused, folding her arms over her chest and trying to glare before it faded into a hesitantly proud smile. "December."

His brows shot up. "Really? Well, merry Christmas to you," he teased. "I'm being invited to the christening, right? You'd _better_ be inviting me to the christening. You wouldn't even _be_ with a girl now if it wouldn't be for me!"

"Whatever, bitch," she snorted. "I'm hot and sexy as hell, girls are all over me."

"Mmm, or not," he said with a wry laugh. "I want to meet the girl that charmed you."

"Ass and I'm not charmed."

"Whatever," he smirked, shaking his head. "You're so charmed. Never thought I'd live to see the day Santana Lopez fell for someone."

The smile fell off her face and she shook her head, standing up abruptly. "We have a flight in the morning. I'd recommend you go home and pack."

He straightened up, momentarily confused by the sudden change of topic, but getting that the previous one was closed. "Uh... yeah. Sure." He got up. "I'll get that team heading over there and head home. See you in the morning."

"Good night, Blaine," she said, not looking up from where she'd suddenly decided to organize her desk as he left.

* * *

Despite what most of their friends thought, it was midway through their sophomore year before things moved from just dating to more intimate relations for Santana and Blaine. For him, it was a matter of respect, letting their relationship move at the speed she was comfortable with. For her, it was a matter of sheer terror of him finding out what she hid under her tight dresses and special underwear.

The first time talking about it became unavoidable, they'd been in the midst of a heavy makeout session. She hadn't been thinking, caught in the moment as she pulled him on top of her on her dorm bed. He'd smiled into the kiss not thinking anything was amiss as his hands stroked over the sides of her breasts through her tight green dress.

She'd whimpered into the kiss as she'd pulled him closer, her hands fisted in his shirt. Her growing erection was an ache between her thighs as it pressed against the restraining fabric of her underwear, but she didn't care. All she wanted in that moment was those hands on her body, his surprisingly soft lips on hers.

When she didn't stop him, his hand slid lower, smoothing over the stiff peak of her breast - the feel of that turgid nipple straining against his palm drawing a low groan of desire from deep in his throat. He wanted her. He'd wanted her since the first time he'd seen her, but he'd always respected her wishes to not go further. Except now... now she wasn't making any and those delicious sounds coming from her throat as his tongue slipped between her lips was making his cock twitch excitedly in jeans that were growing too tight with every moment that passed.

It felt so good to have someone touch her that she wasn't thinking as his hand slipped over her hip, pushing her dress higher. She moaned into the kiss, one hand sliding down over his side to squeeze his ass. There was a frisson of something not quite right, but it just felt so good to be wanted that she ignored how uncomfortable it felt to have his weight pressing her into the bed or the roughness of the stubble against her face as they kissed.

It wasn't until his hand started sliding down over the smooth curve of her thigh towards her crotch and its secret that things clicked. She gasped, pushing him back as she tried to scramble out from under him. He looked up at her in confusion as she scrambled to push his hand away before it reached her secret.

Too late.

He froze with his hand resting on the distinctive bulge between her thighs and stared at her uncomprehendingly. She whimpered and shifted back even further. Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard she was half afraid it'd burst, but she couldn't look away from the confusion in his hazel eyes.

"I... I can explain," she stammered, swallowing a whimper harshly as she felt her cock twitch under the heat of his palm.

"Good," he said with a confused little laugh but not pulling away, "cause while I've not been with a lot of women before, I'm pretty sure that's not what it's supposed to feel like down there."

The sound that came from her throat was half whimper, half nearly hysterical laugh as her eyes finally closed. "God, no. I can't be so lucky."

His tongue darted out to moisten his lips as his thumb almost unconsciously stroked over her hard cock. "So talk to me, baby. We've been together this long, you can talk to me."

She couldn't help the slight buck of her hips against his hand as he stroked her. "I... I wasn't b-born like this," she finally whispered, frowning in shame. "As a... as a woman."

"Okay," he said softly, his eyes never leaving her face even as the rest of his fingers joined his thumb in the gently stroking.

"Okay?" Her eyes opened, looking at him in confusion, even as her legs spread a little wider to accommodate the movement of his hand.

He shrugged. "Okay. You're my girlfriend, Santana. You really think it matters to me how you were born? I'm not interested in babies or little kids. Just my adult girlfriend and what makes her feel good."

"It, um... it doesn't bother you?" Her voice sounded so tiny and forlorn that his heart half broke for her.

Carefully folding his hand over the bulge of her erection, he squeezed gently with a reassuring smile. "Does this feel like me being bothered by something?" he asked, his smile growing as she shook her head. "I thought you knew I'm not straight. Don't be ashamed of who you are."

Her jaw worked as she swallowed, her eyes falling closed as she started to lose herself in the sensations of his hand massaging her cock. "It's hard," she whispered.

"You're still my beautiful girlfriend," he said softly, crawling forward to kiss her. "I just have one question."

She opened her eyes again, looking up at him in trepidation. "What?"

His smile widened into a smirk as he managed to get one of those sexy low moans he loved so much out of her with a slight twist of his wrist. "Do you think we'd have gone further if you didn't have your buddy here?"

The sensations pulled her eyes closed again, her jaw dropped as she struggled to control her reaction as a blush spread over her cheeks. "Yes," she whispered, her head falling back. "God, yes."

"Want to anyway?" he husked, his lips brushing hers as he let up on the frustratingly gentle massage to slip his hand beneath her shorts and down over her painfully restrained cock.

"P-please..." The word came out a half-choked plea as she bucked into his hand.

It'd been so long since anyone else had touched her. Since anyone besides her doctor had even _seen_ her without the boyshorts he carefully slid off her hips, letting her erection spring forth with a gasp of relief as the painful pressure finally stopped. She watched with uncertain excitement as he pushed her dress and bra up over her head and tossed them aside. His hungry gaze drank in the sight of her nude body now lying before him, sliding over the curve of her jaw and the sensual swell of her breasts with their stiff nipples jutting towards the ceiling to the smooth plane of her stomach before finally landing on the proud mast of her thick cock.

"Beautiful," he breathed, the tip of his tongue darting out to moisten his lips as he began to fumble with his buttons.

Santana's eyes were drawn to the distinctive bulge of his erection and the growing patch of dampness on the front of his crotch. She couldn't help the shyly proud smile at the awareness of just how turned on he was that sight gave her. No matter how much uncertainty she felt about anything else, knowing that someone's arousal was because of her was exciting.

She watched him undress for her, her eyes following his fingers as they made their way down the front of his shirt, the fabric parting to reveal a dusting of dark hair over the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen. Her jaw worked as she swallowed, her tongue slipping out to moisten her lips as he tossed his shirt aside and his hands moved to the waist of his jeans. Boxers slid away with denim as he got off the bed to finish stripping.

Finally nude, his hard cock pointing almost lazily at Santana on the bed as she twisted her body to face him, he grinned at her and spread his hands, turning slowly. "So... do I pass the sexy test?"

She laughed, feeling the tension of the moment starting to ease. "For a dude strutting about bare ass naked in my dorm room," she said, reaching for him with a grin, "I'd say you pass. Come here."

Blaine crawled back on top of her with a lazy smile. "You're perfect, you know that?" he asked, cupping her cheek as he moved to straddle her thighs. "Absolutely perfect."

Santana smiled up at him shyly. "Charmer." Swallowing, she looked down at where their penises were brushing against each other, sending strange sensations through her. "H-how are we going to do this? I... I mean, I've... I've never... never _anything_ really but especially not, you know," a blush heated her face as her voice dropped to an embarrassed whisper, "in the butt or nothing."

"What?" He looked startled for a moment before laughing. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry. I just... you know that's not all two people with dicks can do together, right?"

She frowned. Of course that was what two guys did together. Everything she'd seen in the stories she'd read online in anxious hope about this day ever coming said it was. "Well, there's like... blowjobs and handjobs, but that's not sex."

"Oh, you have so much to learn," he murmured, leaning in with a smile to kiss her again. "Let me show you something."

Reaching down between them, he pressed their cocks together in a loose fist and shifted his hips, rubbing his member along Santana's. She moaned at the sensation as he shifted again, rolling his body over hers. Keeping his eyes on her face, he reached up with his free hand to cup one breast, gently rolling it under his palm as he rubbed against her, their cocks sliding against each other, moistened by the precum dripping down his shaft.

This was _nothing_ like what she'd experienced with Kurt in the stable loft. It wasn't a handjob, despite Blaine's hand _definitely_ on their shafts, and it wasn't anything like what she'd imagined sex with a man would be like from watching the videos she'd found online. Her hips bucked as he stopped holding them together in favor of holding himself up, grinding her cock against him, her head bumping against the hard ripples of his cut abdominals.

She moaned into the kiss at the feeling, her hands sliding down to grip his tight ass and pull him harder against her as she thrust against him. The weight of his body and the slightly unpleasant scratch of his hair still nagged at some part of her, but it was all overwhelmed by the incredible sensation of being naked with someone she cared about, someone who wasn't judging her. Someone who wanted _her_ and not something else - a boy or a girl who was born the way they were supposed to be, mind and body in agreement.

Despite telling her she had much to learn, he lost control first, pulling away from their desperate kiss to gasp for air as he rutted against her. He grunted as he came, his cum splashing hot over her stomach and the lower curve of her breasts in a couple of spurts. Somehow, that was what tipped her over, her own desperate climax following on the heels with a couple more thrusts.

He slumped down on top of her, panting for breath in the wake of their nearly mutual orgasm, barely keeping himself from fully resting on her by bracing his forearms on either side of her head. "See... see what I mean?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly as he tried to catch his breath again.

"God," she whispered, staring up at the ceiling past his shoulder. "That... that was sex. That was definitely sex."

He laughed, rolling off to lay on his back beside her. "I know, right? That was awesome." He rolled his head to look at her with a smile, his eyes twinkling happily. "Any time you get sweaty and sticky with someone you like a lot is a good time in my book. Did you like it?"

She turned to look at him and offered a lopsided smile. "Yeah. I didn't even know that was possible."

Blaine rolled on his side and threw an arm over her waist. "There's all kinds of things that are possible that don't involve," his lips twitched in suppressed humor, "in the butt."

"Oh ha ha, laugh at me for not knowing all about how two dudes get their freak on," she complained with a pout.

"Innocent but sexy as fucking hell," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her with a smile. "God, I love that about you."

"You're such an ass," she whispered back as he pulled away from a second kiss, a hint of a smile curling her lips as she gave him a shove. "Go shower. We need to get dressed before my roommate gets back."

He just laughed as he got up and disappeared into the tiny en suite bathroom.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Been a long enough wait, guys? Sorry it took so long.

* * *

"I'll be a couple of days," Santana said, heading down the house's main staircase with her suitcase in hand. "Maybe a week. It shouldn't take any longer though."

"Are you sure this is the right time for this?" Kurt asked with a worried glance at where Quinn was standing on the interior balcony and watching them leave with a hand over her still swelling stomach and an unreadable expression on her face. "I mean, with Ms Fabray..."

"Kurt, I am fully aware of her condition," Santana snapped, handing her suitcase to Shane. "But if I don't get to Boston and minimize the fallout from one of the _morons_ my useless uncle put in place before I could fire him _embezzling_ millions, we're going to have a much bigger issue."

"I understand that, but -"

She cut him off with a glare. "No. You don't. Our numbers this year hinge on Boston coming in where it's supposed to. Right now, it's not going to, so I _need_ to be there to reassure the stockholders that this is under control. This isn't me running off for a vacation with your damn boyfriend!"

He looked stricken. "I... I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "Save it. I don't have time." Her gaze flickered up to where Quinn was disappearing back down the hall to her bedroom, lingering on the woman's retreating form as she sighed softly. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course," he said, nodding his head slightly, having managed to regain some of his professional composure while she was distracted by Quinn's retreating figure.

"Do you remember the stables that Mother's horses were sent?" she asked softly, her eyes still on Quinn.

He looked confused but nodded. "I believe so and if not I'm sure I could find it in the ledgers."

Her dark eyes finally left the empty balcony and turned back to him. "Will you take her there while I'm gone? Find some suitable animals for our stable."

"O-of course," he nodded again, trying to hide his surprise. Horses back at the Lopez Estate! It'd been decades. "Certainly, ma'am. Do you have any particular traits in mind?"

She was silent for so long that Kurt thought she hadn't heard him and started to repeat himself when she finally spoke. "No. But... if there's a descendant of Aliyana..."

His breath caught in his throat. "Of course," he said softly, his voice barely more than a breath. "I'm sure that will be perfect."

Santana's lips curled in a slight, sad smile. "It'd be appropriate. Thank you, Kurt. I'll call when we land."

"Very good, ma'am." He followed her out and watched her disappear into the back of the car before it pulled off down the drive.

The very _idea_ of one of Aliyana's foals back at the Lopez Estate. Maribel's favorite mare's foals. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the feeling of stunned shock, a tiny smile curling his lips as he glanced over his shoulder at where Quinn had disappeared. Things were changing in the odd little household.

And he had a feeling it was finally for the better.

* * *

"Oh wow," Blaine murmured with a grin, looking out the window of the car as it carried them towards the port. "This place hasn't changed a bit. Remember when we were here last?"

Santana rolled her eyes with a sigh, leaning back in her seat as she tried to ignore how annoyingly perky she'd forgotten he could be.

He laughed. "Oh yeah, you remember. I wonder if the club's still here," he teased, glancing at her with a knowing smirk. "You _really_ liked that club."

"I broke up with you because of that club," she reminded him, resting her head on the glass.

"So? Not like you're the first person I've ever had to breakup with me over a girl." He shrugged. "Besides even you've got to admit it was pretty hot when that Asian guy pulled you up on stage and had you running the bondage. Very hot."

She rolled her eyes, sighing softly. "Whatever. Can we just focus on the job so I can get home?"

"Mmm. Want your baby momma already," he teased, giving her a nudge.

"I'm so giving you a pay cut," she mumbled, going back to staring out to window.

* * *

Of course she remembered the club.

The Blue Room. She remembered the brick stairs heading down to the basement club lit with neon blue lights that buzzed loudly enough to be audible even over the murmurs of the crowd. She remembered how strange it had been to be surrounded by people in clothes of leather, silk, and what she had been pretty sure was rubber. She remembered the man up on the stage in little more than a pair of silken yoga pants, his skin glistening in the lights focused on the stage as he plied the short whip over his assistant's back.

She remembered _her_.

Blonde with faintly tanned skin that glimmered in the stage lights. Santana's eyes had been drawn to her like instinct. Even from the back of the crowd, she was transfixed by the way the woman's mouth was spread by the red rubber ball gag filling it, a thin trickle of saliva oozing from her gaping lips as she knelt on the stage, her hands clasped loosely behind her back and nothing hiding her rich curves from the lascivious eyes of the crowd. She couldn't believe how lost in pleasure the woman looked as the whip thudded against her back, making her shiver and moan around the gag in her mouth.

Her transfixation hadn't gone unnoticed. The man noticed her attention and stopped stroking the woman's skin with the whip, instead using it to point imperiously across the crowd at Santana. Every line of his body seemed to demand her response and his dark eyes bore into her from across the room.

She _wanted_ that.

She wanted that ability to draw people in. To command with a look. To be the person standing strong behind a beautiful woman and drawing cries of pleasure from her even when she was in a position of what Santana could only think of as utter humiliation.

She found herself slipping through the crowd towards them, her cock uncomfortably hard beneath her dress as it pressed against her compression shorts, Blaine completely forgotten in favor of the enigmatic man and his assistant on the stage. The man stepped to the edge of the stage and offered her a hand up onto the raised platform when she reached it, an easy smile curling his lips. A young man emerged from the crowd to kneel before her, letting her use his back as a step up onto the platform, but even with the assistance, she stumbled slightly, finding herself easily caught by the man.

"Hi there," he murmured, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'm Mike. Mike Chang. Who might you be?"

"Santana," she said, her voice surprisingly husky as he steadied her easily on her heels. "Santana Lopez."

"Cool. I think you like my sub," he teased, stepping away from her to caress the blonde's cheek. "Her name is Holly. She's very lovely, don't you think?"

Santana had only been able to nod as her eyes followed his hand as it slowly slid over Holly's body. "V-very," she finally managed to whisper, her voice thick with want.

"Would you like to play with her?" he asked, his tone conversational despite the subject as his fingertips lightly brushed under Holly's chin, raising her head. "I think Holly would like to be tied up, wouldn't you, Holly?"

Holly's head inclined in agreement as her eyes half opened, revealing pupils blown with pleasure. She moaned softly, the sound muffled by the ball gag. Santana's nostrils flared as a whiff of the heady smell of the woman's arousal met her nose, her eyes darting down to take in the sight of a thick bead of glistening arousal sliding down her thigh.

"God, she's beautiful," she husked, her tongue darting out to moisten suddenly dry lips. Her cock made a slight bulge under the otherwise smooth lines of her dress.

"Let me teach you how to make her even more beautiful," he said, ignoring the crowd as he moved to pick up a skein of thin black rope from a chair on the back of the stage. "This is called _kinbaku_." He passed behind her, pausing to whisper in her ear, "The art of rope bondage. I think you'll enjoy it. You have that sort of look."

Santana shivered at the feeling of his breath over her ear, her cock agreeing with the general sense of arousal. "Please," she whispered, feeling his hands slide over hers as he pressed against her back, "teach me."

He chuckled softly as he slipped the rope between her fingers. "I'd almost think you were a submissive from how pliant you are, but no, I think you're just distracted by my beautiful sub."

For the next three hours, Mike guided Santana's hands through the patterns of tying intricate designs around Holly's pliant body. The searing warmth of the crowd's eyes on her faded into the background as she lost herself in the feeling of the soft rope sliding through her hands and the warmth of Holly's pale skin. She ignored everything from the throbbing ache of her rigid cock between her legs to the way people slowly began trickling out of the club as it closed. Even Blaine gave up eventually, leaving a card with the bartender for where Santana and him were staying instead of trying to break into the trance.

It was nearly two in the morning by the time Holly was bound on her knees, wrists to ankles, loops of black rope securing her breasts with intricate cloverleaf knots around her taut nipples. Her thighs were spread wide, the rope biting into the soft flesh as her shaven core was exposed, pink inner folds glistening before Santana's lustful gaze. Deep blue eyes peered up at her as she panted for breath, the ball gag having long since been removed.

"Please," Holly whispered, her voice nearly harsh with need, "_please_, Mistress..." Her throat worked as she swallowed. "I need to come. Please. M-master," she begged, her eyes darting to Mike.

He raised a brow as he regarded Santana. "Well? Are you going to reward her for behaving so well?" he asked.

"R-reward?" Santana looked at him in confusion, licking her lips distractedly.

He threw back his head and laughed. "You truly _are_ an innocent!" He placed his hands on her shoulders and smiled at her as he looked into her eyes. "Holly submitted to you tonight, Santana. It's up to you to decide her fate. Nothing as dramatic as if she lives or dies - I'd never allow you to harm her - but whether she is allowed to finish or not? That's up to you. So?" he glanced down at the faint bulge at the front of her dress with a knowing smirk. "Are you going to reward her or not?"

"I... I..." Santana stammered, a blush flooding her cheeks. "W-while you watch?"

He chuckled but moved to sit down on the chair that had held the rope earlier. "Why not? My Holly loves an audience and by the looks of things, you're not entirely against them either," he added with another telling glance at her crotch.

She glanced down her body, finally realizing just how poorly hidden her cock was that night. "I... I can explain..."

He shrugged. "That you either have a penis or a strap on under that tight dress? Who cares? As long as you know what to do with it, it's fine."

"Please," Holly begged, nearly in tears from how badly she needed release. "Please, Mistress. Let me suck your cock. I'll be good. I promise I will."

"Are you going to let her down?" Mike asked softly, a brow rising.

Santana swallowed harshly but reached behind her to pull down the zipper on her dress, wiggling out of it to stand in nothing but her compression shorts and a blush that darkened her tanned skin down to her chest. Her breasts heaved under the deep breaths she forced herself to take to keep control as she slipped her fingers under the waistband of her shorts and pushed them down, letting her cock spring free with such a rush of relief from the pressure. she couldn't help the low groan of pleasure. She stepped out of them, leaving her clothes in a pile on the stage as she walked closer to Holly again, her cock swaying with each step.

Holly watched the bobbing member like a snake watched the flute of a charmer, her eyes fixed on the uncut head approaching her. She swallowed hard, trying to get moisture in her mouth to prepare for Santana's girth. When Santana hesitantly ran her fingers through her thick blonde hair, Holly moaned almost unconsciously at the pleasurable feeling of her nails against her scalp.

"Do you want to suck my cock?" Santana asked, a strange thrill running through her at the sight of the bound woman at her control. She'd never felt a rush like this before and even as she gently pushed Holly's face towards her straining cock she was wondering when she could again.

"Please," Holly whispered, licking her lips as she moved closer with Santana's help.

"Then what are you waiting for?" she asked was a low husk as she tangled the fingers of both hands in Holly's hair and pulled her down towards her groin.

She couldn't help the shuddery gasp that broke from her as she watched her cock disappearing between those full soft lips that had caught her attention earlier. It was at once the same and oh so very different from when Blaine - or Kurt during one drunken night in high school - had gone down on her. She felt like butterflies had erupted in her stomach as she fisted the blonde hair, unable to keep herself from thrusting her hips into Holly's face as the woman moaned around her cock. She could feel her balls slapping against the woman's chin with each thrust, but it only spurred her need on, making her roughly fuck Holly's face, much to the submissive's vocal approval.

When she came, she came hard, bowing over Holly's head with a groan of release, shooting her load down Holly's throat in hot spurts of cum. Holly drank it up eagerly, sucking hard on Santana's cockhead as if to get every last drop from her. Santana groaned low in her throat as she felt her softening cock stirring again.

"Fuck," she muttered, finally managing to pull away from Holly's voracious mouth, her cock once again hard as a rock and ready to go. "Now what?"

Mike got up and walked over, wiping away the traces of cum spilling from Holly's mouth before untying her enough to let her get onto the bench on the other side of stage and retying her to its supports. "Now... fuck her. She's been begging for it all night."

"B-but I've never been with a girl," she admitted, the blush spreading back over her cheeks.

He snorted. "Like that matters when you got a dick like that? You're hard for her already, Santana." He pulled a condom out of his pocket and knelt down in front of her, Santana watching with wide eyes as he carefully placed a condom over her straining member. "There. Hot as you are, I don't want my favorite sub getting knocked up or catching nothing," he added, slapping Santana's naked ass as he pushed her towards Holly. "If you gotta have a first, why not a girl who's tied up and begging for you?"

Holly watched Santana with wide eyes as she approached. "Please," she gasped, her entire body trembling with want. "Please, Mistress... please make me come."

Every time she heard that word - _Mistress_ - fall from her lips, it strengthened her desire to slide inside her. Her chest heaved as she panted for breath, her hands sliding over silken thighs and tracing the ropes binding her legs wider than Santana almost believed it was possible for legs to go. Her nostrils flared as she watched beads of arousal seeping from Holly's core.

"_Fuck_," she whispered, her eyes glazing over with want, "you're so fucking beautiful I can't stand it..."

"Please," Holly whispered again, waiting for Santana's massive cock to stretch her wide. "Mistress..."

The moment she said mistress again, Santana couldn't take it anymore. She reached down to line her head up with a trembling hand and with one quick role of her hips, sank her full length deep into Holly's core with a groan of pleasure. Holly let out a short scream as she was stretched faster than she'd expected, but it didn't take long before her body adapted to the length and thickness. She shivered with each delicious press of Santana's head against her cervix, driving her almost mad with need.

Santana's fingers gripped her thighs so hard her knuckles went white as she thrust into her. If it weren't for the fact that the bench was bolted to the stage, she might have pushed it off with the force of her thrusts into Holly's core. The woman moaned with pleasure, writhing as much as she could in the confines of her bonds, her core clenching hard around Santana's dick in lieu of being able to roll her hips. Santana put her head down and kept thrusting into her hard, her balls slapping against Holly's ass with each deep thrust.

Mike watched his sub get fucked for a long minute, a hand idly cupping his own erection and stroking it through his yoga pants. Finally, he got up, pushing the waistband of his pants down to free his own impressive - though thinner and not quite as long as Santana's - member. A couple of lazy pumps and he was fully hard as she reached the two women fucking hard.

He stroked his fingers along Holly's jaw and cheek where her head hung off the bench. "Open for me, baby," he murmured, teasing his cockhead along her full lower lip. "Daddy wants your mouth." Holly gasped, her lips widening to let him slide his cock easily into her mouth and down her throat with a low gasp of pleasure. It was so rare that he was able to properly satisfy his insatiable sub after a long club session, but it was clear that tonight was definitely going to be a good night for her.

His hands slid down to cup her bound breasts, lightly plucking at the knots forcing her nipples to stiff peaks as he rode her face. Holly's cries of desperate pleasure were muffled around his dick as he fucked her, one hand moving back to caress her throat, massaging the bulge his cock made there to further stimulate himself. Santana moaned as her hips pistoned her massive cock in and out of Holly's dripping hole as fast as she could, her half opened eyes fixed on the sight of her instructor fucking the woman's face.

"Oh God," she moaned, her hands tightening on Holly's thighs hard enough to bruise as she struggled to keep control. "Oh God... God, I'm gonna blow..."

"T-then," Mike panted, his own breathing ragged with a rapidly approaching orgasm as he reached down to roughly pinch at Holly's clit, "_come_. All of us."

It was like a switch had been thrown. Santana's eyes glazed over as her jaw dropped, lips rounding in an "o" of almost surprise as her balls tightened and her cock jerked in the hot grip of Holly's core as it started milking her. Thick jets of semen pooled in the reservoir of the condom that had deadened the sensations enough to make her last as long as she had. She let out a low moan as she saw Mike's milky cum beginning to spill out the corners of Holly's lips as the man kept fucking his sub's face.

Her dick already softening, Santana pulled out and dropped to her knees, awkwardly burying her face between the woman's thighs almost on instinct. She nuzzled at swollen pink folds, her tongue seeking out the hardness of Holly's clit as Mike released it, sucking it into her mouth and lashing it with her tongue. Her fingers thrust blindly into her stretched out core, making the woman scream and fight against her bonds as being caught between the two dominants pushed her into orgasm after orgasm, soaking Santana's face with female cum.

Finally, Mike pulled out and with a last shuddering gasp, clear fluid splashing into Santana's still eagerly suckling mouth, Holly passed out, laying limp on the bench. Mike walked over to Santana on trembling legs, not even bothering to put away his cum streaked and half-erect cock. He gripped her shoulder and pulled her back, smiling lazily down at her cum-stained face.

"I thought you said you'd never been with a woman before," he joked, reaching for a towel to clean off his dick before slipping it back in his pants.

Santana blushed dark. "I... I _haven't_, I just... just..."

"Needed a taste?" He laughed, giving her a little wink. "Well, whatever made you do it, you've helped me give my baby girl the night of her life and I appreciate it." He held out a hand to help Santana up, which the girl gratefully accepted. "You ever want to learn more about this sort of thing, you just give me a call. Guy can't go wrong with a student like you."

Santana blushed again, ducking her head with a shy smile. "Thanks. This... it's not what I expected when I came here with my boyfr... oh no."

"He left a card with Sebastian," Mike said, nodding at the sardonic looking man idly waving a small business card over by the bar once he realized they were paying attention to things not on the stage again. "I expect you two have a lot of talking to do."

She glanced over at where Holly laid on the bench, a blissed out smile on her unconscious face. "Yeah," she whispered, feeling the unmistakable surge of arousal at the beyond fucked woman stronger than she ever had with Blaine despite her body's inability to respond right then, "I think I really do..."


	10. Chapter 10

"I think I'm gay."

Blaine blinked before smiling confusedly as she came back to the room they were sharing at the hotel in the early morning hours. "Well, I can honestly say that's not the line I usually hear as a reason for breaking up with me."

Santana sighed, shaking her head and dropping down to sit on the hotel room's other bed. "I'm sorry, Blaine. I just..."

"You found a girl," he said softly, leaning forward to place a hand on her knee with a gentle smile. "Makes you feel like a million dollars? Hung the stars and the moon? Most beautiful creature in all creation?"

"More like let me tie her up and fuck her senseless," she replied, rolling her eyes.

He sat back and blinked again. "Well... that works too, I guess..."

Santana chuckled softly, smiling ruefully. "I didn't plan on this happening. I just... Blaine, I'm sorry, but I felt so much more _alive_ with her. I know it's crazy and Mike was there and just... everything. But it felt so _right_." She paused, biting her lip. "Does that make sense?"

"Considering that you're apparently talking about screwing that Dom's sub up on stage, it probably shouldn't," he said, shrugging, "but... yeah, it kind of does. So... gay, huh?" He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Damn and here I thought we really had something."

"We did!" Her head jerked up, eyes wide at the implication. "We did, Blaine. I swear we did. It's just... this is more than that. You're one of my _best_ friends and I can't imagine spending the last few years as anyone's girlfriend but yours."

"Best friends," he murmured, glancing down with a lopsided smile. "But girls just do it better for you, huh?"

"Yeah," she said softly, rubbing her hands together awkwardly. "I didn't mean for this to happen..."

"It's okay, San. These things happen sometimes, you know? It's no one's fault." He shrugged, looking back up at her with a little smile. "Now that we're breaking up though, I _do_ get custody of that gorgeous black, silk blazer of yours, right?"

Santana laughed, startled by the change of subject. "Only if I get that rhinestone bowtie of yours," she teased. "A girl needs her bling."

"Deal!" He held out a hand as if to shake on it, but stood, pulling her into a hug when she took his hand. "Never change, okay?" he whispered in her ear, hugging her tight. "Stay you. Stay my best friend. That's all I ask."

Her arms wrapped around his waist and she held him close, burying her face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne. "I won't. I promise." The words were a soft buzz against his skin, but he didn't move from the hug. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," he said, swallowing hard and blinking while she couldn't see his face. "Just be happy, okay? Maybe this girl isn't the one -"

Santana snorted, her shoulders vibrating as she laughed into his shoulder. "Probably not."

"Hush, I'm being profound here." He rolled his eyes, a fond but sad smile curling his lips. "The girl for you is out there. I know she is just like I know you're gonna find her someday when you're ready. It'll happen."

"If you start singing and dancing, I'm going to punch you," she mumbled into his shoulder, blinking her own eyes against the sting of emotion.

He just laughed, rubbing her back and standing the the middle of the hotel room they'd checked into as a couple but were checking out of as just friends.

* * *

As soon as Kurt helped her out of the car, Quinn noticed the difference between an active stable and the one at the Lopez estate. There was a sense of aliveness to this place that was absent at the Lopez estate. Everything seemed in motion, from the trainers working in the rings behind the barn to the stablehands mucking the stalls inside. The shrill whinnies of horses calling to each other and the clop of hoof on dirt or concrete filled the air with the voices of the human handlers.

"Oh... wow," Quinn whispered, looking around with wide eyes.

Kurt clasped his hands behind him as he stood beside her with a small smile. "Welcome to Whisper Creek Stables," he said, nodding at the barn were a tall man in jeans, a flannel shirt, rubber boots that went to his knees and a puffy vest was walking towards them. "It looks like we've been expected."

"Kurt, hey!" the man called, waving at them. "I heard you were bringing Santana's Lady by," he said as he grinned at them, scrubbing a hand on his jeans before offering them, "and I thought I'd come out and say hey personally. I'm Finn. Finn Hudson. This is my stables."

Quinn took the proffered hand with a confused blush. "Um, it's nice to meet you. I'm Quinn Fabray."

"Santana's Lady," Finn corrected with a wink, giving her hand a squeeze before letting it go. "Keeps a stablehand like me from getting ideas. So you guys are really bringing horses back to the Lopez place?"

Kurt smiled slightly, nodding. "Yes, it appears so. Naturally, Whisper Creek is the first place we'd come."

"Well, 'course!" He tucked his thumbs in his vest pockets, pulling it out slightly. "Why wouldn't you want the best animals this side of the Mississippi in your stable?"

Quinn tried to hide her smile, glancing down at the ground. "Kurt says this is the best stable in the area."

Finn nodded, grinning proudly as he turned to look at the barn. "It sure is. Santana's dad loaned my mom and me the money to get started, but I don't think we've done half bad by him." He glanced over his shoulder at Quinn. "You know, we're the ones he asked to take his animals after Santana's mom passed away. Cause he trusted us to take care of them." He shook his head. "Really sucks that he died so soon. He was one cool dude."

Kurt nodded. "She appreciated the flowers you sent, Finn. It was a nice gesture." Finn just shrugged, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "She was hoping that maybe you would have any of Aliyana's offspring available?"

Finn perked up at the mention of the horse. "Mrs. Lopez's palomino? Oh, man, that was one beautiful horse. She passed on a couple years ago, but I think we've got a couple of her grandbabies about ready for sale. Want to come take a look?"

Quinn straightened up, a hand resting lightly on her stomach as she smiled up at him. "Could we? I'd really like that."

He smiled lopsidedly at her. "Anything for a pretty lady like you. Follow me. I'll give you guys the grand tour."

She glanced at Kurt in consternation at the compliment but the butler just took her arm and hooked it through his, patting it gently. "Don't worry. Finn's a good man and would never attempt anything with Ms Lopez's lady. Technically, he's my stepbrother since our parents got married about, oh, maybe a decade past now, but we don't let that interfere with business," he added with a lazy wink, a tiny hint of a smirk on his lips.

Quinn laughed softly, letting herself rely on the man's strength as they walked. "That's good to know. I wouldn't want Santana to kill him after all."

Kurt's smile grew larger. "I do believe you're beginning to understand our lady."

"I'm certainly trying," she murmured with a little smile, squeezing his arm.

* * *

Boston wasn't as bad as she'd thought it would be when she'd had Grace book their flight out.

It was worse.

Digging into the site's upper management's files - which had been partially deleted despite everything her IT team had been able to do to lock them out when she'd given the signal to move - they'd discovered that not only had the corruption infested the entire management staff, but it had even gotten down into the upper rungs of the lower levels of management as well. While her legal team was moving forward on pressing charges against the people responsible, the investigative team had uncovered that the amount embezzled was even higher than initial reports seemed to indicate. Her uncle's hand picked man had managed to replace most of her father's staff with people either too incompetent or too naive to realize what was happening or with those who'd actively _helped_ him steal closed to _eighty_ million dollars from the company and Santana honestly didn't know which was worse when she'd found out.

"I want them _all_ gone!" she snapped into her phone, pacing back and forth in the airport terminal with only her carryon bag for company. "I don't _care_ that it's going to cost me to replace them! It's cost _plenty_ having them in the company! I don't need anyone to _stupid_ to realize that there is _no_ good excuse for the books being off by _eighty fucking million dollars_, John! Just get rid of them!"

She was quiet for several long moments before shaking her head. "No. Promote from within first. Blaine's going to be on site for another couple of weeks - longer if you need him - and he'll be able to help, but I want the whistleblower rewarded for this. They saved our collective asses by getting this _problem_ reported this to my office and that's the kind of solid thinking I want in management."

"John," she nodded at the attendant as she was waved towards the boarding line, grabbing her bag, "shut up for a damn minute and listen to me. We have good people working for us in Boston. _Good_ people. And they don't deserve to get saddled with a bunch of outsiders just because their management fucked up. We need their trust but more than that, we need their _support_. Promoting the best of the lower managers who weren't involved and tapping foremen and dockhands to take some of their places will show them that we haven't lost faith in them."

"Ma'am," an attendant stopped her at the door, "we'll be taking off soon so you'll need to end your call."

"Hold on a second." Santana lowered the phone, pressing it against her shoulder to muffle the microphone. "I know. I'm almost done." Heading into first class, she shoved her bag into an overhead compartment before settling into a seat and putting the phone back to her ear. "Look, you can hire outsiders to fill the positions you can't promote into, but I want Blaine in on the interviews." She paused a few moments before frowning. "I don't _care_, dammit! I'm tired, cranky, and I'm damn well going home! I've been gone more than a _week_ longer than I'd planned. You and Blaine are fully capable of handling things there, unless you're trying to tell me I'm wrong to trust you?"

The attendant leaned down with a frown, but Santana waved them off. "Good. Now we're about to take off here, so I'm hanging up on you. Take whatever other problems you have to Blaine _first_. I'm going to be out of the office for the next day, possibly two. I don't want another call unless it's a Goddamn honest-to-God _emergency_, got it? Good. Bye."

She closed the phone with a sharp snap before flipping it back open to turn it off and shoving it into her jacket pocket. Settling back into the plush seat after fastening her seat belt, she looked out the window with a sigh. Two and a half weeks in Boston trying to dig down to the root of the financial drain and seal it back off hadn't been in her plans for the month.

She glanced down at the bulge of her phone in her jacket with a sigh. Not being able to check on her child's mother as often as she'd wanted to hadn't helped with her stress levels at all. She was sure that they were thinking of her as a raging bitch in Boston, but as she rolled her shoulders to try and relieve the tension, she couldn't bring herself to care.

She just wanted to go home.

* * *

Quinn was trying to nap in her bedroom when the soft clattering groan of the shower in Santana's bathroom filtered into her consciousness. She sat up slightly with a frown, certain it was a dream. Santana had promised she'd only be gone a week, but it was going on _three_ and there hadn't been any word as to when she'd be home.

She ran a hand over the hard curve of her stomach as she felt the baby move at the thought of its parent. "Shh," she cooed, trying to calm them, "it's okay. Just let me rest. Please?"

The baby had started kicking barely two days after Santana left. Quinn's first reaction had been the excitement of a mother at being able to feel those little hands and feet pressing against the inside of her womb. Her second reaction had been harder to come to terms with - the fact that Santana wasn't there to experience it herself. She'd picked up the phone to call her several times, but in the end hadn't been able to bring herself to do it. Why tell her when she wasn't even there?

She sighed softly, feeling the baby kicking against her palm. "Little soccer player," she teased gently, smiling down at her belly as she continued to caress it.

The soft knock at her door followed by Kurt easing it open drew her attention. He sighed in relief as he realized he wasn't interrupting her nap. "Oh good, you're awake. Quinn, she's back from her business trip. She didn't want to interrupt your nap, so I had to wait until she was showering to tell you."

"She's home?" If Quinn had been able to see the brilliant smile that'd wreathed her face, she would have began to understand why so many in the Lopez estate were kind to her - and maybe why Santana was as gentle as she was. "It's alright, Kurt, really. I understand." She slid to the edge of the bed and set her bare feet on the ground, not bothering with slippers.

"Where are you going?" he asked, frowning in concern as he stepped over to help her up.

She accepted the hand up off the bed, but straightened up with a hand on the small of her back with a small groan. "I'm going to go and give her a proper welcome home," she explained, heading out of the room.

He frowned in confusion. "But... she's showering."

Quinn glanced back over her shoulder with a tiny smile. "I'm aware. It's been quite a while since we've seen each other after all," she added, biting her lip lightly as a blush spread over her cheeks before she managed to get through the door into the hallway.

* * *

Santana leaned against the shower's tiled wall and let the hot water beat against her tired skin with a low groan. She was exhausted, Boston _still_ wasn't fixed, and Quinn was asleep. She wasn't sure she could have _had_ a worse time to come home.

She sighed, shaking her head slowly. Of course Quinn was asleep. She was huge with their child and Santana hadn't been here to help. A pang of guilt curled in her stomach as she looked down her body at the floor of the shower. Putting business before family when Quinn was twenty-four weeks pregnant? What kind of mother was she going to be?

She didn't really register the soft sound of the shower door opening and someone joining her in the close confines before closing it again behind her. Too wrapped up in her exhausted self-loathing, it wasn't until slim arms twined about her waist and a firm belly pressed into her back before she realized she wasn't alone any more. She jerked away from the wall, only to be greeted by a kiss to the back of her neck that made her shiver.

"Welcome home." Quinn's voice was husky in a way that didn't help at all with the shivers running through Santana's body. Neither was the pale hand that curled around her soft cock as she looked down her body, her breath shuddering.

"Quinn," she breathed, breathing deeply through her nose to try and contain her body's desire to react. "What are you doing?" The kisses moved lower along with the feeling of her lover's pregnant body sliding down along her backside, but Quinn didn't answer. She shivered again at the feeling of a kiss pressed to the hollow of the small of her back just above her ass before Quinn's hand left her half-masted cock to press against her hip. "Quinn..."

Quinn looked up at her from where she knelt on the floor of the shower, water from the ceiling mounted showerhead streaming over her face and down over her swollen breasts and belly as she offered an enigmatic little smile up at the other woman. "I'm welcoming you home," she said simply before leaning in and pressing a kiss to Santana's well groomed skin just above her still semi-flaccid cock. "Properly," she added as she took the base into her hand and licked her lips.

When Quinn's full, red, lips pushed back her foreskin, Santana's eyes began widening only to flutter half-closed as her tongue began to explore her exposed head. She let out a low groan as a hand came down to tangle into wet, blonde hair. "God, Quinn," she moaned, swallowing hard as the woman took her half-hard member fully into her mouth, running her tongue over it and teasing the veins until it swelled to full size still captured between her lips, stretching her lips to take it.

She coughed slightly as she pulled back off, her gag-reflex trained away to nearly nothing, but she didn't respond verbally, just blinking against the water running into her eyes as she smiled up at Santana before wrapping her lips around her head and suckling. She hadn't fully realized what she'd wanted to do until she'd gotten into the bathroom and seen Santana's nude body behind the glass walls of the shower, water cascading down over her. The jolt of pure lust had almost made her groan with need even as she'd pulled of her clothing and slipped into the shower.

After nearly four months of almost constantly being fucked by Santana, Quinn had learned a few things about what the woman just enjoyed and what got her off _hard_ and what she wanted more than anything was to get Santana off with her mouth in that moment. She reached around her, running her nails up the insides of the woman's thighs, pressing just hard enough to make her shiver. As Santana's weight shifted to let her lean back against the wall of the shower, Quinn smiled around the cockhead in her mouth and gave a hard suck that drew the sort of moan from Santana that made Quinn's eyes flutter in appreciation.

Santana kept her hand fisted gently in Quinn's hair as she watched her lover suck her off. It felt different than it had before she'd left somehow. It was more than the fact that _Quinn_ had initiated sex for once - though that by itself made her ball tighten up - but that it just _felt_ intimate. In a strange way like the first time they were together, before reality had intruded. Finally it dawned on Santana as she fell over into her orgasm with a gasp, long strings of cum shooting down Quinn's throat as she swallowed rapidly to try and take it all.

She felt _wanted_.

It was a strange feeling for the businesswoman and she wasn't certain how she should feel about it as she watched Quinn cleaning her drooping member with gentle licks. Santana's chest heaved with each breath as she watched her, knowing that if she wanted to she could pull the woman up and take her right there. But she didn't, choosing instead to wait and see what Quinn wanted to do.

Quinn stood awkwardly after she decided that Santana was clean and leaned against her enough to press a soft but quick kiss to her lips as she pulled away. "You look tired, Mistress," she said softly, recognizing the flutter of dark pleasure in Santana's eyes at the title. "Will you let me take care of you?"

Santana looked down at the hand being held out to her before following it up her arm to her face. "Yes," she husked, allowing her fingers to tangle with Quinn's.

She turned off the shower and led her from the shower, pausing only to gently towel their skin and hair mostly dry. Santana's eyes followed her movements, content to see what Quinn had in mind without pressing for control. Yet strangely, even with Quinn directing everything and leading her about, she didn't feel _out_ of control. She didn't know how she was doing it, but somehow the other woman's deference was enhancing Santana's self-confidence once again instead of eroding it.

She led her out to the bed, coaxing her with gentle touches to lay down on her stomach as Quinn crawled onto the silken sheets to kneel beside her. "May I help you relax, Mistress?" she asked, her fingertips featherlight along Santana's back.

"You may," Santana mumbled from where her head rested on her pillows.

Quinn smiled as she knelt beside her, her stomach supported on her thighs. "Thank you, Mistress," she murmured before pouring a little of the lotion Santana kept beside her bed between her palms and rubbing it warm.

As Quinn's fingers dug into the first of the knots in her back, Santana tensed slightly, but the pain of working the knot out gave way to an intensely pleasurable release that had her sinking deeper into the bed with a moan. Her lover's hands on her back left trails of fire and pleasure across her skin that left her feeling like she was floating in a pool instead of stretched out on her bed. As Quinn continued massaging out the tension of her business trip, Santana could feel her body responding, her dick stirring to press harder and harder against the bed beneath her.

Finally, when she could no longer take the pressure, she reached back to grab Quinn's wrist as she rolled to the side, exposing her member. "Lie down," she commanded, her voice soft, but rough with want for her pregnant lover.

Quinn bit her lip to hide a tiny smile, but settled down on the bed in front of Santana, her back nestled against the woman's front. Her breath quickened slightly at the feeling of Santana's soft breasts with their hard peaks pressing against her back and the hard, hot length of her shaft resting against her thigh. "Like this, Mistress?"

"Exactly like," Santana whispered, reaching down between them to lift one of Quinn's legs up over hers before lining her cock up with Quinn's entrance. She rolled her hips, sliding inside with a satisfied moan as she sank into the rapidly becoming familiar warmth.

Quinn wasn't able to resist her own moan as Santana's hands slid along her body, one tucking under neck to cup and slowly knead one full breast as the other slid down to massage her clit with tortuous gentleness. Santana kept her motions slow, almost lazy, as she fucked into her. It was the oddest but most relaxing sexual experience she'd had as she felt her climax lazily building, letting her almost drift to sleep despite what was happening.

Quinn mumbled something several minutes into it that brought her fully awake again. "What was that?" she asked, giving a nipple a gentle pinch to get her to speak up.

"I," her voice trembled with how on edge she was, "I said... w-welcome home, Mistress..."

Santana smiled into Quinn's hair at the sentiment, allowing Quinn a little more friction. "I'm not home until you come around my cock," she ground out, flexing her hips to drive into her a little harder. "Don't you want me to come home?"

"Y-yes," Quinn gasped, feeling her orgasm beginning to overwhelm her. "I... I've waited _week_-" The word was cut off as she came with a strangled gasp, her walls clenching down deliciously hard on Santana and making the woman spill over the edge herself.

Santana grunted softly as she thrust one last time into Quinn before settling, lying still behind her and gently stroking her clit to bring her down. "Thank you," she whispered, pressing a kiss to Quinn's shoulder. "That was the best welcome home I've ever had."

Quinn laughed softly, her body still trembling from the slow build orgasm. "Maybe you should go away more often then," she teased gently before biting her lip in trepidation, unsure how it'd be taken.

After a moment though, Santana's rich laugh curled around her. "Maybe I will if I'm going to get welcomed back like this. A woman could get used to this sort of treatment."

Smiling around the lip still held between her teeth, Quinn caught one of Santana's hands and pressed it against her stomach just as a tiny foot pressed hard against her womb's wall. "And this too?"

Behind her, Santana's eyes went wide as she realized what she was feeling. "Is... is that...?"

Quinn nodded, smiling shyly. "Your baby."

"_Our_ baby," she corrected without thinking, stroking Quinn's stomach over and over. "Beautiful like their mother," she added as she shifted, accidentally letting her softened member slide out of Quinn's core in a rush of cum.

A faint blush spread over Quinn's cheeks as she started moving to get up. "I'm sure they'll take after you."

"Where are you going?" Santana asked, propping herself up on one elbow with a confused frown as Quinn got to her feet.

"It... it's late," she tried to explain, rubbing at her neck. "I should go to bed..."

Santana hesitated a moment before pulling the covers of her bed back and sliding beneath. "There's a bed right here," she said softly, looking up at her.

Quinn's eyes widened. "I... I don't... is this... is it an order?"

"Quinn," she said softly, a hint of vulnerability in her voice as she looked at the woman standing by the bed and trembling slightly. "You don't have to," she finally said with a sigh, letting the covers fall back to the bed and rolling over so her back faced the woman.

She licked her lips, feeling the nervous anxiety building up in the pit of her stomach. "I..."

"Just go back to your room," Santana mumbled into the pillow she'd grabbed and pressed her face into. "I'm obviously too tired to think properly. It was stupid of me to offer."

Taking a deep breath, Quinn reached out to pull back the covers, drawing Santana's attention. As the woman rolled back over to watch her, she carefully crawled back onto the bed, settling down almost nervously under the silk sheets she'd only been on top of before. "Are... are you sure this is alright?" she asked, her mouth dry with nerves.

Santana rolled her eyes, reaching over to wrap a possessive arm loosely beneath Quinn's breasts. "My house," she murmured, sliding closer, "my rules. Tonight it's alright because I'm tired and you're warm."

"Tired and warm," Quinn murmured as she curled an instinctive arm around her baby's other parent. "Got it."

"Good," Santana mumbled, allowing herself to drift off to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** I doubt I'll be able to keep up this level of activity, but while I've got it, no reason to complain, right? ;)

* * *

The next morning, Quinn woke warm and rested to the sight of her Santana's dark hair flowing over the swollen curve of her stomach as Santana rested with her head pillowed on the hard bulge, ear nestled against her skin. She reached down to brush her fingers through the dark hair before she fully woke and realized what she was doing, but once she heard the soft, satisfied sound - almost like a purr, she thought idly - from the other woman, she didn't pull her hand back. After a few minutes, she opened her mouth to speak, but Santana lazily reached up to press a finger against her lips.

"Shh," she murmured softly, not moving from where she rested. "I can hear their heartbeat."

Her eyes widening slightly as a blush spread over her cheeks, she contented herself with continuing to gently stroke her fingers through Santana's hair as the woman listened to their baby's heart beating through Quinn's skin. The creak of the door opening caught her attention and she turned her head in time to meet Kurt's surprised eyes as he peeked inside. Lifting a finger to her lips, she shook her head and nodded at where Santana had started murmuring to the baby, ignoring how the man could see her exposed breasts having spent the last few months becoming accustomed to how little her nudity fazed the gay man.

His eyes still betraying his surprise at opening Santana's door to see Quinn in the woman's bed, he nodded and eased the door closed as he backed back out into the hallway. Left alone with just the two of them again, Quinn turned her attention back to the woman she'd never been allowed to see in the vulnerable time after just waking since their disastrously painful first morning after. She knew if Kurt was coming to wake her up, there really wasn't much time before the day would intrude but being allowed this felt like something changing between them.

Santana finally turned her head and placed a gentle kiss to the swell of Quinn's belly. "Good morning, beautiful," she whispered softly, brushing a hand over Quinn's stomach before turning her head to blink sleepily up at Quinn. "Hi."

"Hi," she whispered back, a hint of a smile curling her lips as she watched Santana let her head settle back down on Quinn's stomach, this time facing Quinn. "Comfortable?"

"Mmhmm," she mumbled, yawning as she nuzzled Quinn's warm skin. "You're warm." After a few moments, she blinked her eyes open again with a confused frown. "You stayed? Why?"

Quinn thought about it for a moment before shrugging. "You asked me to."

"Oh." She sighed softly, reaching up to rub at her eyes before pushing herself upright, her long dark hair spilling down to cover her breasts as the sheet tangled about her waist. "I'm sorry if you didn't want to," she said softly, rubbing at her face. "You never have to do anything you don't want to, Quinn. You know that."

Quinn sighed, shaking her head. "I didn't say I didn't want to." She ran a hand through her hair, feeling the growing length - no longer in the short pixie bob the firm had forced her to keep it in - brushing her shoulders. "Santana, I..."

"No." Santana shook her head, moving to get up. "I'm sorry, Quinn. It was... improper of me to ask you to stay." She wouldn't look at her as she climbed out of bed, the sheet falling away to expose her body to Quinn's view.

A low growl of frustration from the pregnant woman brought her attention fast though, whirling around to stare at her in wide eyed surprise. "You keep telling me I don't have to do anything I don't want to, but you have not yet allowed me to express what I _want_ to do." She pushed herself upright in the bed, struggling slightly as the swell of her stomach made it awkward but managing. "I _chose_ to stay here last night, Santana Lopez." Her eyes flashed with an anger Santana had never seen in the woman and it made a shiver of excitement run down her spine, straightening her up out of the self-absorbed funk she'd been putting herself into. "I _chose_ to stay here because I _wanted_ to. If I'd wanted to go back to my room to sleep alone in my bed, I damn well _could_ have. Sorry for wanting some damn _company_ for once." She blinked rapidly, her anger flashing over into tears almost before she could stop it, choking her voice. "Sorry for wanting to wake up beside someone for once. Sorry for wanting to be _wanted_ for once."

As she started struggling out of the bed, Santana threw herself across the width to grab her wrist. "No! Quinn," she bit her lip, not sure of what to say before finally going with, "I'm sorry..." She sighed softly, looking down at the bed, her fingers still loosely wrapped around Quinn's wrist. "I didn't mean to make you think you couldn't stay if you wanted to," she said softly.

Quinn sniffled, reaching up with her free hand to wipe at the tears streaming down her face but not trying to pull her wrist from Santana's grip. "You make me feel like a whore _so_ often," she whispered, looking up at the ceiling instead of at Santana. "I _know_ I'm a whore, but... do you have to remind me so much?"

Santana pressed her lips together, shaking her head, her fingers loosening enough to let Quinn's wrist fall from her grip. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean-"

"Stop apologizing," she choked out, her jaw clenching. "Just stop. I know what I am, Santana. Just like I know what _you_ are. My client. No matter how _nice_ you act or what gifts you give me or where you allow me to go or what you allow me to do. I'm your _whore_" The word was choked out. "Your whore who happened to get pregnant with your baby." She struggled out of bed and this time Santana made no move to stop her. Quinn looked back at her with sad eyes that the other woman couldn't bring herself to meet as she picked up the robe that had been discarded by the bed and pulled it on, hiding her nudity. "Once they're born, you'll throw me away, just like everyone else in my life."

Santana didn't know how to respond. In so many ways, Quinn was at once right and wrong. Yes, she was a whore - Santana's whore even - she'd bought and paid for her and her services and she couldn't deny that. Yes, she was living in the house because of the baby and she had to admit that most of her feelings involved the child. But at the same time, she couldn't deny the positive changes Quinn being there had made in the household. Nor could she deny how she'd felt when she'd woken up to find herself tangled with the other woman, a hand resting on the swell of her pregnant belly.

Quinn's jaw worked as she looked down at Santana laying across the bed, unable to respond. "That's what I thought," she whispered, hugging the robe around her body as she headed for the door, hating her heart for aching.

"It's not like that," Santana whispered, her voice barely audible where Quinn stood by the door. She sat up, turning to look at her. "It's not." Her lips pressed together in a thin line and she wasn't able to meet Quinn's gaze. "It's... it's complicated."

Quinn smiled sadly, shaking her head as she opened the door. "My entire life is complicated, Santana. I was just being silly thinking that something might actually be simple for once. I hope you have a good day, ma'am."

She disappeared through the door, the heavy panel closing with a soft click behind her before Santana could respond. She sat on the bed, her hands gripping her thighs hard as she tried to wrap her mind around how what had started like such a warm and pleasant morning had gone so wrong so fast. Finally, an answer no closer to her grasping mind, she forced herself to her feet, storming about the room and dressing with angry quickness.

When Kurt opened the door again, the odd little almost family like moment he'd witnessed the first time had been replaced by Hurricane Santana. He blanched at the amount of chaos her quick movements were throwing the room into even as he eased himself inside. "I take it something happened," he said with some modicrom of calmness given the lines of horror etched into his slim face.

"I don't want to talk about it," she snapped, slamming the drawer she'd been digging through closed having found the cufflinks she wanted.

"I see that," he murmured, his face pale as he thought about how much work straightening her room was going to be.

"I need you to call Dave and Artie," she said, crossing the room to her closet to select a pair of shoes for the day. "Arrange for them to meet with me at their earliest possible convenience. I don't particularly care if you had something else planned for me. Cancel it. This takes priority."

He nodded, knowing better than to argue when she was in a mood like this. "Of course, ma'am. I'll go do that now."

"Good. Oh...and Kurt?" She paused, waiting until he turned from the door to look at her expectantly, barely glancing up at him from the shoes she was trying to decide between. "Could you... check on Quinn?" The vulnerability in her voice gave her best friend the clue he needed to figure out something about what had happened.

"Of course, ma'am," he murmured, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

"Strange," she whispered, throwing a rejected pair of boots back into the closet, "doesn't seem as fucking final when he does it."

* * *

Leaving Santana's room, it had taken every ounce of Quinn's waning will to not run down the hall towards her room like some broken hearted girl from a romance novel. Instead she'd cupped her hands protectively about her stomach and took deep breaths through her nose as she made her way past a worried looking Kurt and down the hall to her bedroom. She had to swallow repeatedly the last few steps to keep the tears inside and her hand trembled slightly as she opened her door, closing it gently behind her.

In the safety of her room, free from judgmental eyes, the facade she'd so carefully maintained in the hall crumbled, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks as her breath shuddered through her chest. She leaned against the door, biting her lip as she gazed sightlessly across the room through the film of tears, her jaw working soundlessly. It was stupid. It was _all_ stupid.

A trembling hand clenched at the robe over her chest as if it could squeeze the ache out simply by pressing. Her lips pressed together in a vain attempt at not trembling as salty tracks made their way past her lips. She felt so _stupid_.

She'd _known_ all she was was a whore - a mere vessel to bear the all important child to the lonely businesswoman. But she'd let herself be distracted by Santana's conscientiousness. By the tenderness she'd probably just imagined in her touch. She sniffled, trying to stop her nose from running as she made her way across the room to sprawl on the bed, clutching the pillow to her chest.

She never should have stayed last night. She should have ignored the unusual softness the exhausted woman seemed to be showing and gone back to her lonely room as she always did. She never ever should have given into her heart's urging to let herself be vulnerable with the other woman.

Santana couldn't be trusted, she reminded herself as she sobbed into the pillow. She was a _client_ and Quinn should never _ever_ forget that again. Santana's reaction when she'd fully woke up proved beyond a doubt to her that she'd never forget that the mother of her child was nothing but a whore who spread her legs for anyone with enough money. There were _rules_ and if Quinn was too stupid to follow them, she deserved to get hurt.

She was so lost in the pain of her self-hatred, she didn't hear the door creak open or the soft tap of Kurt's highly polished shoes on the floor as he crossed the room. The dip of the bed as he sat down beside her was her first clue before his gentle hand settled on her shoulder.

"Oh, sweetie," he murmured, forgoing the traditional distance of butler and guest in favor of trying to comfort the sobbing woman. "Whatever she did, I'm sure she didn't mean it..."

Quinn swallowed hard, trying to drag her tears physically back inside now that a witness was there. She sat up awkwardly, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her palm. "I don't know what you're talking about. This is just...hormones. That's all."

Kurt clucked knowingly. "Mmm. And hormones are currently rampaging through Ms. Lopez's room I suppose." He shook his head. "I would think that after nearly four months of shared company, you would realize the futility of lying to me." He smiled at her, tapping the side of his head. "The butler knows all, don't you know."

She laughed waterily, sniffling. "I bet you didn't know that I'm nothing but a common whore though."

Kurt's eyes widened slightly, but it was the only betrayal of his surprise he allowed. "Well, you're not exactly Julia Roberts, but I can certainly see why Ms Lopez would want to...ahem, acquire your long-term and exclusive services." He raised a brow. "You have been exclusive...?"

She snorted. "Of course. The firm's high class even if I'm not. As Santana's fully aware." Her face crumpled as she took in a shuddering breath. "No one would ever truly want someone as ruined as me. I should just sign with them permanently..."

Kurt sighed, shaking his head and slipping an arm around his shoulders. "Quinn, if I may be so bold, would you allow me to speak my mind upon this subject?"

She shrugged, unable to bring herself to speak.

"If you'd never told me of your...profession prior to coming here, I never would have known." He held up a hand as she opened her mouth to speak, staving her off. "Wait until I've said my piece if you please. What I was trying to say was that Ms Lopez...actually, if we're being informal, let us be truly informal - Santana took great pains to inform everyone - including myself - that you were a lover who'd agreed to take residence with her once you'd discovered you were with her child. When some - myself mainly, I admit - pressed for further details, all she would say was that you were a surrogate. Now, I have known Santana for my entire life, Quinn. She has been my closest confidant and the sister of my heart and I simply cannot imagine serving anyone else for one simple fact. Santana Lopez has _never_ lied to me."

Quinn frowned but Kurt gently pressed one white gloved finger to her lips. "She has never lied to me, Quinn. Never. If she did not call you a... a whore," his lips twitched before saying the word, his distaste for it clearly evident to Quinn, "then, to her at the very least, you are not one."

She swallowed back a surge of nausea at his admission. "For someone who doesn't _think_ I'm a whore," she bit out before Kurt could respond, "she certainly treats me like one."

He winced. "I'm sorry about that, but... I believe you need to realize that before you came, Santana's only... companions had been just that." At the look she shot him, he shrugged, holding one hand palm up. "I did say the butler knows all, did I not? Santana is more than my mistress who I'm proud to serve as her butler, Quinn, she is my best friend. We've discussed the, ahem, _women_ she's summoned to her room. Most rarely stayed an hour after discovering Santana's... endowment."

"That's certainly a mild way of putting it," she muttered, her hands fiddling with the belt of her robe. "I don't know why they'd leave though."

"Because they lacked the one thing you don't," he said softly, reaching over to raise her chin up until she could see his soft smile. "You don't see her as a freak, Quinn. She's a _person_ to you. That means a lot to her."

She swallowed, her eyes moving away from his. "It means something to me too," she admitted in a soft whisper. "No... no one's treated me like a real person in years..."

His lips thinned as he sighed. "You deserved better than that," he finally said. "But, Quinn... please don't shut Santana out. She'll never admit it, but your presence here is the best thing that's happened since before her mother died."

She shook her head, pulling away from his gentle grip. "It's just the baby," she whispered, smoothing a hand over the soft terrycloth covering her swollen belly. "Once the baby's here she'll tell me to leave. Just like everyone else."

He sighed again, shaking his head as he shrugged. "I see I'm not going to convince you. Which is just as well, I suppose. That would be Santana's task and there are some things which one simply should not leave to the butler. But for what it's worth," he waited until she looked up at him curiously before offering one of his few truly sincere smiles, "I don't think you're as... _professional_ as you like to believe. As far as I'm concerned, ma'am, you are simply my mistress's lover and the mother of her child." The smile warmed slightly as he reached out to gently squeeze her shoulder. "And, besides someone that I am beginning to consider a possible friend, that is all."

Quinn had to blink quickly to hold back the fresh rush of tears his words brought, nodding quickly, too moved to say anything as she wrapped her arms around herself.

"I'll bring you up something light for breakfast and lunch," he said softly, letting her have her peace. "If you feel up to joining us for dinner, it shall be at seven tonight as always. If not, I'll have a plate prepared for you."

"Thank you, Kurt," she whispered, not looking up at him as he turned and made his quiet way from the room.

* * *

The furious rattle of keyboard keys filled the room as the large man eased his way into the office. "You asked to see us, boss?" he said, holding the door open for a mousy looking young man in a wheelchair before crossing to her desk.

The rattle stopped as she looked up. "Actually," she said, pushing her keyboard aside and opening up a drawer to pull out two folders, "yes. I've need of your skills, gentlemen."

The man in the wheelchair pushed up his thick framed glasses with a curiously raised brow. "Some sort of crazy corporate takeover need a special touch?"

"Not exactly," she said, pushing the folders across the desk to them. As they took them and opened them to begin reading, she continued. "I'm going to need the two of you to split up, actually. Dave, I need you to find and retrieve someone for me."

The man looked up, frowning. "Boss, this is a kid."

"I'm aware. That child and her caretaker's safety are vital to the success of the assignment I'm giving Artie."

His frown only deepened. "I don't know about this. I don't like the idea of messing with kids."

Santana sighed. "Karofsky," she said softly, calling him by the name she'd first met him under when he was just a Marine sergeant pulling civilians out of a badly damaged building after a bad earthquake on the West Coast, "this isn't for the company. It's...it's personal."

"Personal how?" he asked, his brows lowering as he put a heavy hand on Artie's shoulder to keep him from interrupting.

She placed a hand over her heart, taking a deep breath before admitting softly, "Family, Dave. Now... please?"

His nostrils flared slightly as he shook his head. "I don't like this," he said, slapping the slim folder against the palm of his hand. "You know I don't like messing with kids."

"I know. But you're the best I know at finding people and making sure they get where they need to go safely," she said, looking at him and attempting to appeal to his better judgment. "I _need_ to make sure they're safe. Can you do this for me? I'll consider everything fully repaid..."

He sighed, clearly not happy, but nodded. "Alright. But only if this clears the slate between us."

She nodded. "The debt's gone. I promise."

"Alright." He tried to look down at the folder Artie was perusing only to frown. "What the fuck is this gobbledygook you got Artie on?"

A faint smile curled her lips. "Oh... just a little something to ensure a particularly unpleasant group of people can't sink their nails any deeper into someone," she said, leaning back in her chair and steepling her hands in front of her. "Think you can handle it, Artie?"

The young man pushed his glasses back up his nose with a smile. "Nothing to it. It's just an in and out, run and gun, right? Just pull a copy of the files and nuke the originals?"

She nodded. "That's right. I doubt they have a hacker of your magnitude on their payroll after all. Oh," the smile turned decidedly dark, "and if you find any... interesting information that someone, oh, say the police, might find interesting, I'd love a copy of that too."

Artie chuckled softly. "You've got a mean streak a mile long, Santana. I take it whoever this is pissed you off pretty good."

Her gaze darkened momentarily, a frown spreading over her features as she thought about some of the things she'd noticed over the last few months. "You could say that. Personally, I'd say that I have some... significant differences, shall we say, with their business practices and employee relations."

Artie raised a surprised eyebrow. "Uh... okay. So, you want this done when?"

"Soon as possible." She sat back upright, grabbing a pen and pulling her checkbook out of her desk. "Handle it in under a week and I'll double the usual fees," she added, writing two checks and pulling them free. "Do we have an agreement then, gentlemen?"

Dave looked down at Artie with a slight shrug. The men had been partners for years and Santana sometimes marveled at how easily they worked together despite being very different. But then the Brain and the Brawn of B/B Private Investigations Incorporated never failed to impress for as long as she'd been working with them.

Artie finally nodded, setting his envelope on his lap to reach across her desk with a smile. "We've got a deal alright. You'll hear back from us by Friday."

She stood up to shake his hand, a smile playing around the corner of her lips. "Angling for that double commission?"

They laughed. "You know it!" Artie joked, winking at her as Dave grabbed the arms of his wheelchair. "Don't call us..."

"You'll call me," she smiled, relaxing back into her chair. "I know. Good hunting, gentlemen."

"The best," Dave said as they vanished out the door.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** First, yes, I _know_ that RM declared Santana's official middle name to be Diabla. _However_, you will not _ever_ convince me that a Catholic (I know that's not official, but it seems likely), Latino/a family is going to name their _daughter_ Diabla. That is stupid on a level that doesn't even bear contemplation, so kindly don't tell me her name is Santana Diabla Lopez. I honestly don't care what RM decided to tweet about it. Second, please please please, don't expect me to be able to keep this speed up. It's all unfortunately insomnia driven and I have _got_ to sleep sometime. :(

* * *

After nearly a week of Quinn cloistering herself in either her room or the stables and neither woman even making any attempt to even physically see the other, let alone actually do something as radical as _talk_, Kurt had about had enough. The entire household was reflecting the sour atmosphere that had settled between them and after Mercedes had actually managed to _burn_ an entire tray of her homemade tots, he decided that it was time to take matters into his own hands. Which was why when Santana returned home from the office, Kurt was standing on the porch with his arms crossed over his immaculately pressed Dolce & Gabbana covered chest and a decided glower on his normally pleasant features.

"Santana Maria Lopez!" His voice cut like a whipcrack across the courtyard as soon as she opened the door of the Lincoln.

Santana paused, half out of the car to raise an eyebrow over her dark sunglasses at his presumption. "Kurt," she said mildly, continuing to get out of the car and closing the door behind her. "I assume you have some reason for attempting to make a scene?"

"I most assuredly _do_," he snapped, dropping his arms from their folded position to descend the porch stairs with quick steps, striding across the drive towards her, gravel crunching almost angrily beneath his highly polished Fratelli Rossetti loafers. "What is the _meaning_ of your behavior towards Ms Fabray?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line beneath glasses that refused him access to her eyes. "I believe," she began, her voice dangerously soft, "that _Ms Fabray_ has made her feelings regarding me entirely clear, Kurt." She stepped past him to climb the stairs into the house. "I made it clear when she first joined us that she would never be forced to do anything she didn't chose to. If she is now choosing to exercise that right in abandoning us, then so be it."

"Oh, you are _entirely_ frustrating sometimes!" He barely resisted stamping a foot on the gravel and scuffing his shoe, fuming at his best friend and employer's self-absorption. "What is _wrong_ with you? Honestly! Sometimes you are the stupidest, most pig-headed person I have ever met!"

Santana stopped halfway up the stairs to glance at him over her shoulder, her patience worn decidedly thin in the last few days. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, Kurt," she said softly before turning back to climbing the stairs. "If you want to speak to me as a friend, I'll be in my office. Otherwise, _try_ and remember who you work for."

Kurt huffed, crossing his arms back over his chest as he watched her walk inside before spinning on his heel to tend to the car.

* * *

Santana dropped into her leather office chair with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as her sunglasses clattered on the desk. Despite his unusual breaking of the line between his role as her butler and that of best friend, she knew Kurt had a point. Things with Quinn had started off awkward after she'd woken up with her and just gotten worse as they continued to not talk after... she couldn't even really call it an argument. They'd... talked. Quinn had said things that poked so many holes into Santana's confidence, she didn't even know how to _approach_ the other woman, let alone begin to make things right.

She groaned softly, letting her head fall back against the chair's headrest as she leaned back. Everything was going _wrong_ and she didn't even know _why_. When she'd woken up two days ago, she'd actually felt _happy_. Really and truly _happy_ in a way that she hadn't realized she hadn't felt since before her father passed away. Before her mother had gotten sick if she was truly honest with herself.

Waking up in the blonde's arms - not that she would _ever_ admit that was where she'd found herself - with her head cradled against Quinn's shoulder and her nose full of the clean smell of baby powder, the vanilla and jasmine of the woman's soap and shampoo, and the soft, but not quite identifiable _something_ that was Quinn Fabray was the happiest she'd been in a long time. It had made sense to linger in bed after waking up. To slide down to whisper good morning to their baby, still sheltered in Quinn's womb, and lay there listening to the rapid patter of it's heartbeat fluttering in her belly.

She blinked against unexpected moisture as she remembered the gentle feeling of Quinn's fingers in her hair, stroking softly and the dreamy feeling of that half-awake happy place she'd been satisfied to stay in instead of getting up to start her day the way she knew she should have. The night before had been perfect - going from irritable to wonderful almost as soon as Quinn had wrapped her arms around her in the shower. When she'd finally drifted off to sleep, she'd felt completely sated and bonelessly relaxed as she rested against Quinn's warmth, her hand loosely splayed over the firm bulge of her stomach.

And then... disaster. She groaned, leaning forward again to rub at her eyes. She didn't even know what she'd _said_ that set her off!

Of course, that was the moment Kurt chose to push into the room.

"Santana, you simply _cannot_ continue to treat her like one of your," he gestured wildly as he crossed the room, looking decidedly uncomposed, which was rare for her long-time companion, "your _doxies_!" She raised a surprised brow, startled from tears by his entrance. "She's a pregnant woman, pregnant with _your_ child I might add and-"

She cut him off. "I'm aware of all of that, Kurt. Believe me. I am _intensely_ aware, but what am I supposed to do?"

He stopped, caught off guard by having his rant chopped off at the knees. "Well... I don't know?"

She laughed bitterly. "So you can scream at me about not treating her properly, but can't tell me how _to_ treat her right? That's helpful."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I hardly am an expert on courting pregnant and emotional females," he groused, straightening his silk tie primly. "However, you simply cannot continue on in the path you have. I... understand the delicate nature of Ms Fabray's... profession more fully now, but given your knowledge and obvious lack of regard for it, I fail to see how it should be a problem."

She raised a brow at him, sitting back in her chair, the leather creaking softly around her shoulders. "She told you?"

He nodded. "She did." His face softened, remembering what he'd walked in on. "Santana, she was in tears when I entered her room to check on her. Whatever happened between the two of you hurt her deeply..."

"She said I treat her like a whore." The words were bitter on her tongue, falling without emphasis from her lips to thud deadenly between them. "And... I suppose I do." It was like a fist tightened slowly around her chest with each word and she couldn't bring herself to meet Kurt's expectant gaze.

"Talk to me," he said softly, coming over and dragging a chair around her desk to sit before her, his knees touching hers as they had as childhood confidants whispering secrets in closets. "What's going on in that beautiful head of yours, Santana?"

She shook her head, her lips tight as she kept her eyes on her linen covered legs. "I can't," she whispered softly. "I don't know how to treat her the way she deserves. I don't know how to be... to be real anymore, Kurt. All I know are the rules. I know how to control. How to," her hands spun between them, grasping for words that didn't want to come clear, "to bind and pin and bend women like her to my will because I know," her jaw worked, "I _know_, Kurt, that they'll leave. And... and I don't want her to..."

He sighed softly, reaching forward to place a white gloved hand over cream-colored linen. "You can't make her stay. Not if you keep pushing her away."

"But," a drop of moisture splashed on the back of his hand, quickly soaking into the cotton of his glove, "I can't." Her voice trembled, a vulnerability he hadn't heard since her father's funeral seeping in. "I can't, Kurt. If I don't push her away, something will happen. She'll die or get sick of me or... or she'll leave..."

"She'll leave anyway if you keep shoving her away," he said gently, ignoring the tears dripping on his hand. "She's not your parents, Santana. She's different. She's the mother of your child and from what I can only imagine she's been through, she must be an _incredibly_ strong woman."

Santana nodded, having seen the first of some of the information Artie had managed to dig up on Quinn's time with the firm and wishing more than anything that she'd never found out.

"You have to treat her like a real person," he continued, unaware of the things Santana had read just earlier that day. "Like someone you can respect and care about. Like," he paused, licking his lips before continuing, his voice cracking only slightly, "like your father treated your mother."

She looked up at that, her dark eyes red and puffy, but open wide. It wasn't something she'd ever considered, basing her treatment of the woman who was taking such a central role in her life on her parents' relationship. "Like Papi treated... Kurt..."

He shook his head, smiling sadly at her as he gave her leg a gentle squeeze. "I'm not a fool, you know." He tapped the side of his head. "A butler sees everything that happens in a house." At the narrowing of her eyes, he chuckled softly. "Okay, not _everything_, but I've certainly seen enough to know my foolish best friend has gotten in well over her head with this one."

She looked aside, sighing softly. "I'm tired of everyone leaving," she whispered.

"Then stop pushing her away and let her _in_ if you don't want her to leave." The exasperation was evident in his voice as he leaned back in his chair, still watching her. "You're going to get hurt, Santana. You simply cannot avoid it at this point. But... if Quinn Fabray is what you want, if she is _who_ you want and the person who makes you happy," he shrugged, a resigned smile on his slim features, "then who am I to try and dissuade you? However, you _do_ need to stop behaving like a control freak with her. Unless she truly is a whore to you in here," he leaned forward enough to gently tap her chest over her breast, "stop thinking of her as one in here," he tapped her forehead gently.

She snorted softly, glancing up at him through her long lashes. "Easier said than done."

"Hardly. She's barely more than a girl despite all she's been through," he said softly. "Remember how you were in college? God knows I've heard enough stories about your apparent epic courtship with Blaine..."

"Sorry," she muttered, a blush darkening her tanned cheeks.

He waved her off with an amused smile. "It's hardly as if you're the only one responsible. Do you realize he actually talked about you once after _sex_? Hardly appropriate pillow talk." She couldn't help the snort of actual laughter, just as he'd expected. "You've been wooed, Santana. You know how it looks from the girl's perspective. You just need to get off your _ass_ and start applying what you know." He watched her for a long moment before continuing with a disbelievingly cocked brow. "Unless you truly believe the way to a girl's heart is via her vagina by means of that incredibly impressive penis you hide in your panties?"

Santana almost choked from the sudden surge of laughter at his droll delivery. "Oh my God, Kurt! Enough!" She pushed her chair back until she could stand, wiping at her eyes to try and clear the new tears brought by the surprised laughter. "Alright." She held up a hand to ward him off when he opened his mouth to speak again. "Honestly, enough. I get it. I've been an ass and I need to fix it instead of moping around."

"Finally, she sees reason," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

She shot him a look out of the corner of her eyes before shaking her head. "You truly are extremely lucky I consider you my best friend sometimes." Stepping around her desk, she headed for the door. "Where is she?" she asked, her hand on the knob.

He shrugged slightly. "One of two places the last couple of days. Either the stable or her room and I don't recall seeing her heading outside."

She nodded, already turning the knob to leave as he stood. "Thanks."

She was gone before he fully straightened up, leaving him looking at the empty door with a slight smile. "I'm here to serve, ma'am."

* * *

Quinn was curled up in the overstuffed armchair that she'd asked Kurt for after her first month in the house quietly paging through a baby book she'd found in the library. She didn't know why she kept reading the books, but she couldn't help herself. It was almost like there was a normalicy to things when she curled up in the big chair and read the books, a hand stroking protectively over the heavy curve of her belly.

She hated to admit how much she missed Santana caressing her belly and talking to the baby inside before their once regular nightly - and sometimes daily - sessions. It'd been bad enough during the two and a half weeks she'd been away in Boston, but knowing she was _home_ and not coming to see the baby at least made both Quinn and the little one distressed in a way the woman couldn't quite put her finger on. She supposed it didn't matter though. There was no way she'd be allowed to stay longer than necessary to heal after the baby was born after what she'd said.

Quinn sighed softly, shifting her legs under the afghan she'd wrapped herself in to try and keep them from falling asleep again. She never should have said those things to Santana. The woman was proud and she'd been so kind to Quinn that she'd forgotten her place. She bit her lip, the black ink on the page seeming to swim before her eyes. Of course she had to be reminded that she was nothing but a whore.

"Beth," she whispered softly, her voice cracking, "you'd be so ashamed of Mommy right now. I hope you're happy with Aunt Fannie. Maybe you're already calling her Mommy and have forgotten all about your horrible embarrassment of a whore mommy..."

A soft knock at her door broke her from her reverie and she hastily wiped at her eyes before looking up, clearing her throat to call for whoever it was to come in. The only people who'd come to see her since she'd blown up at Santana was Kurt and occasionally Shane or Mercedes with meals. Most of the rest of the staff seemed to avoid her and it was just as well, she supposed. The door creaked open before she could speak however and by the time she realized who was standing there, her voice had absented itself completely.

The woman standing in her doorway looked much younger than the carefully coifed and neatly dressed businesswoman she was used to. Black hair coiled in loose curls down over shoulders covered by a deep red sweater that looked so soft she could almost imagine how it'd feel against her cheek even from across the room even as it seemed to draw her eyes inexorably to the swell of the breasts it covered. Black jeans hugged slim hips so tight it was almost like they'd been painted on and Quinn found herself licking her lips almost unconsciously as she followed the line of leg down to black leather boots with heels that seemed almost _designed_ to bring attention to the calves they clasped in a way that made the lonely woman's core flood with want.

Santana cleared her throat softly, shifting almost awkwardly in the doorway as she hugged the black leather jacket folded over her arms, a white, grey, and black plaid scarf hanging loosely around her neck. A blush colored her cheeks as Quinn's darkened gaze slowly dragged its slow way back up to her face and she sent up a brief prayer of thanks that the tightness of the jeans would only help her compression shorts keep her little friend in check at that look. "I, um," she cleared her throat, the blush darkening at how nervous she felt, "I was thinking that I might... um, go to see a movie and perhaps grab a bite to eat tonight."

"Oh," Quinn whispered, shaking her head to try and clear the lustful thoughts that had invaded upon seeing the other woman after a week apart. "Um... I hope you have a nice time." She ducked her head back down to look at the book again, trying not to think about what must have possessed the other woman to come and tell her. _Probably a date with a __**real**__ woman and not a __**whore**__ like you,_, her mind supplied bitterly.

"Actually," Santana took a step into the room, her heels a sharp contrast to the soft tread of Kurt's similarly hard-soled shoes, "I... ah, well, I was hoping," she bit her lip, her shaken confidence already wavering. "Never mind..."

"What?" Quinn looked up at her as the question left her lips almost before she realized she was speaking, trying desperately to hide any hint of hope from her features.

"I, um..." Quinn couldn't help the tiny smile that curled her lips at Santana's obvious nervousness as the other woman dragged a hand through her black hair. "I was, well, hoping you might... want to attend with me."

The admission made the pregnant woman's eyes widen in surprise. They'd been soft, not at all like Santana's usual confidence and a tiny part of her wondered anxiously if that was her fault, if she'd somehow damaged the woman who made her feel safe. The longer she sat in stunned silence though, the lower Santana's shoulders dropped. Finally, she sighed softly.

"I'm sorry." She sounded regretful as she began to turn to leave. "I suppose that was too much to ask after..."

"No!" Quinn tried to stand quickly, but stumbled as her legs tangled in the afghan, making her grab at the chair to keep her balance. "No, please! Santana," her jaw worked as she tried to find the words that would fix everything she'd said before - no matter how true it was, she'd wanted nothing but to be able to take it back after seeing the pain in the woman's eyes even as she'd been unable to refute any of it - but all that finally came out was, "I'd love to."

The change in Santana was as dramatic as throwing a light on in a darkened room to Quinn's eyes, but at the same time, as subtle as a wave on a lakeshore. She straightened up, her shoulders falling back into that confident line that could make Quinn's knees weak when she saw them uncovered by clothing. A light came on behind her eyes that sent a shiver down the pregnant woman's spine and brought a hint of a smile to her lips.

"Really?" she asked, the faint hint of continued need for reassurance resonating with something inside Quinn that she'd never really realized was still there. "You would?"

Quinn nodded, biting her lip as a blush ran over her cheeks even as she tugged at the afghan around her legs to free herself. "I would."

"Even... even after...?" She gestured towards her room, a shade of concern falling over her features. "I can't promise I'll be different. I... I _like_ the rules and... and..."

She finally managed to untangle herself from the afghan and crossed the room to the faltering woman, gently pressing a finger to her lips. "I like the rules too," she admitted softly. "They make me feel safe because I know you'll follow them too. Not," she frowned slightly as a memory washed through her consciousness, "not everyone is like that."

"That won't happen anymore," Santana promised softly, barely restraining herself from reaching out to touch her. "I'm going to leave you to get dressed for ou... for, um, tonight." A faint blush colored her cheeks as she realized what she'd almost called their proposed outing. "Would you like me to ask Kurt to assist you?"

Quinn couldn't help the blush that flooded her cheeks, her mind doing somersaults as she tried to imagine what the falter in Santana's voice had meant. "I, um... I'd like to get ready on my own tonight," she said softly, glancing at Santana through her lashes in a way that made the woman feel almost _giddy_. "If you don't mind?"

"Not at all." The smile that graced her lips was warm and to Quinn, seemed to be almost promising things that she was afraid were just her imagination. "I'm going to go and find a listing of what's playing locally so we can decide what to see and I'll... see you in an... hour and a half then?"

She nodded, smiling shyly. "An hour and a half sounds wonderful."

Santana couldn't help the grin. "Then I'll see you then."

As the woman walked - and again, that seemed like _far_ too tame of a way to describe Santana's movements to Quinn's mind, _especially_ in those jeans that hugged her ass in a way that guaranteed it'd be burned into the woman's mind for the rest of eternity - out of the room, Quinn could only stand there in a sort of shock. The door clicked shut behind Santana before Quinn's hands came up to cover her mouth as her jaw slowly dropped, the realization of what was going to happen finally fully sinking into her stunned brain. She was going to go _out_ in _public_: with Santana _Lopez_.

"Oh God," she whispered, eyes wide. "What am I going to _wear_?"


	13. Chapter 13

"Santana, calm down," Kurt murmured, carefully adjusting her scarf one last time before stepping back to take in her whole appearance.

"You honestly want me to _calm down_?" she hissed, turning to the mirror over the entry table and smoothing her hands down the front of her sweater. "What if she doesn't like the movie? Or if dinner makes her sick?"

He rolled his eyes, helping her into her jacket and tugging the back straight. "I highly doubt the evening will be ruined if she doesn't care for the film and if dinner makes her sick, you'll bring her home and care for her."

She fidgeted with her scarf, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "We'll have nothing to talk about, Kurt. This is ridiculous."

He turned her around to face him and tugged the collar of her jacket down, readjusting her scarf to dangle down along the lapel of her jacket. "You've not only lived with Ms Fabray but haunted her bed for the last nearly five months now and she is bearing your child as well. I refuse to believe that you've been so appallingly unobservant as to know absolutely _nothing_ about her. I've known you practically my entire life, Santana. I know you better than you know yourself, so kindly listen to me and forget everything you're telling yourself right now and just listen to this." He flattened a gloved hand over her heart, giving her a small smile. "It hasn't led you wrong yet, now has it?"

She let out a shaky laugh and nodded. "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am," he murmured, tugging his own jacket straight with a pleased smile.

She shook her head with a smile, opening her mouth to say something when her phone rang. Holding up one finger, she reached into her pocket and tapped the answer button. "Lopez here." She listened for a few moments before a viciously pleased smile spread over her lips. "Oh that is _wonderful_ news, Grace. And Jesse confirmed there's no way they can get out of it?" She was quiet again for a few seconds before laughing. "I could kiss you right now, Grace. Absolutely. Oh, I would _love_ to inform him personally. Make the appointment. As inconvenient for him as you can possibly make it, please. Thank you again. And remind me to give you a raise on Monday. Good night, Grace."

Kurt looked at her with a raised brow as she ended the call. "Good news, I suppose?"

Santana laughed. "Oh, you have _no_ idea," she said, her grin looking positively shark-like. "I am going to _enjoy_ ruining that son of a bitch's day..."

She trailed off as something caught her eye, her jaw going slack as she looked up towards the top of the stairs. Curious, Kurt followed her line of sight to see what had caught her attention so effectively. When he saw it, a satisfied smile curled his lips.

"I hope this is okay," Quinn said softly, a hand over her belly as she slowly descended the stairs.

Her golden hair gleamed in the light filtering in through the picture window beside the stairs, bound up in a neat bun with a few carefully curled ringlets swinging lightly around her shoulders. Kurt remembered watching her sigh over the pale blue dress with darker turquoise belted empire waist that draped over the swell of her belly during their first shopping trip before he'd surreptitiously slipped it in with the rest of their purchases. A white cardigan covered her arms and went with the white ballet flats on her feet. Her only other ornamentation was the gold cross glittering in the hollow of her throat and the small diamond studs in her ears.

He glanced over to see his best friend and employer standing there looking dumbstruck and let out a little sigh of frustration before giving her a sharp nudge with his elbow. When she jerked her eyes from Quinn to glare at him he cleared his throat before nodding at the woman descending the stairs. Rolling his eyes, he tried to hide the tiny smile at the way her cheeks darkened before she headed for the stairs as he turned to retrieve Quinn's coat from the closet.

Climbing the bottom couple of steps towards Quinn, Santana offered her hand to the taller woman, smiling as she felt the slim fingers settle against hers. "You look," she licked her lips, shaking her head with a disbelieving smile as she escorted her the rest of the way down the stairs, "stunning, Quinn."

Quinn ducked her head, a blush covering her cheeks as her free hand fluttered over the lapel of her cardigan. "Hardly," she whispered, pressing her lips together to try and hide the smile. "I'm so huge I'm waddling."

Santana chuckled softly, raising her knuckles to her lips. "You couldn't be more beautiful. I never realized how true those silly sayings about women being radiant when they're with child until I got to know you."

"Flatterer," she muttered, but her white teeth lightly gripped her bottom lip with a tiny smile as she felt the heat of Santana's hand pressing gently on the small of her back as she escorted her over to where Kurt was waiting with her coat.

The young man helped her slip it on, somehow making her feel elegant despite her bloated body. "You look lovely, Ms Fabray," he murmured in her ear as he settled the coat on her shoulders. "I couldn't have chosen better myself." Taking a step back, he folded his gloved hands together at his waist and inclined his head towards the two women. "I hope you have a pleasant evening, mistresses. Shall I wait up for you, Ms Lopez?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "That will hardly be necessary, Kurt. I'm sure Quinn and I can find our way around our home without your assistance."

A tiny smirk hinted at his lips as he nodded again. "If you insist, Ms Lopez. If you need me..."

"We know," Santana said with an fondly exasperated sigh as she opened the door, her hand finding it's way to the small of Quinn's back again as she escorted her outside.

Quinn's blush seemed determined to be permanent as she stepped outside into the chilly afternoon. She wasn't used to the casual way Santana included her when she spoke about the house and other things and she welcomed the chill breeze blowing over the snow mounded around the cleared driveway where the Lincoln was sitting as an excuse for the redness of her cheeks. Descending the front steps with Santana's assistance, she looked around in confusion as she realized the husky man that usually drove them around was absent.

"Where's Shane?"

Santana glanced at her, opening the front passenger door to escort her into the car instead of the back where Quinn usually sat when she went out. "I," the way she bit her lip when uncertain shouldn't have been as charming as it was, "I thought maybe we could have a night out without any escorts. Just the two of us. And our little one, of course."

"O-oh," Quinn murmured, ducking her head as she slid into the car to hide both the way her cheeks were heating again and the shy smile that had found it's way to her lips.

"Is that a problem?" she asked softly as she slid into the driver's seat and fastened her belt.

"N-no," she whispered, shaking her head as she buckled up. "No problem. Just... unexpected."

Santana's lips quirked slightly. "This whole night isn't exactly planned. I just thought we could use a night away from... here." _From us_ went unsaid. It wouldn't be understood the way she intended.

Her heart seemed to be pounding hard enough that she was almost certain Quinn would be able to hear it, so she forced herself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly as she started the car and put it in drive. Pulling around the circle of the parking area and navigating the long drive out to the road didn't require the silence that had fallen over the car, but Santana was loathe to break it with mindless babbling that would just show off how off balance she felt. She glanced over at Quinn as she came to the end of the drive and a little smile graced her lips as she noticed the way the woman's hands were twisting in her lap.

Maybe she wasn't the only one nervous tonight.

* * *

The movie wasn't the most impressive thing in the world, but hearing Quinn laugh during the few comedic moments had made it far more memorable than it probably deserved to Santana. The way the blonde had grabbed her hand and arm when the monster had jumped out had sent such a thrill of pleasure through her though, she'd had to casually slip a hand to her lap to make sure she hadn't accidentally slipped free of her bindings. The fact that she hadn't let go of her hand as the credits rolled across the screen and they'd gotten up to shuffle out of the crowded theater and head back out to the car to leave for dinner made Santana make a mental note to send a note of thanks to the film's director for such a wonderfully crafted film.

Now that she was sitting across a white cloth draped table from the woman, her fears of not knowing what to do seemed as absurd as Kurt had told her they were. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to chat with Quinn about the menu, chuckling over the pretentious phrases and making jokes about what Mercedes would have to say about them. The sommelier telling her they didn't have any non-alcoholic wines available put a sour note on things though.

"What do you _mean_ you don't offer non-alcoholic wines?" Santana asked in a low murmur. "Can you not see that my companion is pregnant? Are you trying to tell pregnant women that they shouldn't come to your restaurant?"

"I'm very sorry, ma'am, but there's simply not enough demand," the man said, looking apologetic.

"Maybe if you _offered_ it, there would _be_ a demand," she snapped, frowning as her voice started to raise in anger. "Did you ever think of _that_?"

"Santana," Quinn murmured, reaching over to place a hand on her wrist as she noticed people starting to look at them, "please don't. It's okay. I don't even like wine."

Santana frowned, but she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She didn't notice the look of relief from the sommelier or the way he mouthed _thank you_ to Quinn before her eyes opened again. "Alright. We'll have tea, though I would suggest you _start_ carrying a selection of non-alcoholic wines if you want my continued patronage."

He bowed slightly. "Of course, Ms Lopez. I shall inform the owner of your complaint personally after I place your drink order. Your waiter will be out shortly to collect your dining requests."

"Thank you," she said tersely, letting out a short breath through her nose as she jerked her menu open again, only to pause at the feeling of fingers gently caressing her wrist. Her eyes slid across the menu to see Quinn's pale fingers resting against her tanned wrist. Running her eyes up along Quinn's arm, she followed it up to see Quinn smiling amusedly at her. Heat washed over her cheeks as she realized how she'd been acting. "Sorry," she muttered, looking down at the menu quickly.

Quinn chuckled softly, watching her. "You confuse me," she admitted softly. "You're nothing like anyone else I've been with before."

Santana's jaw worked at the reminder. "Good. I don't want to be like them." Her nostrils flared slightly as the stark black and white of Quinn's file flashed before her mind's eye again, but she pushed it down. "That reminds me though," she murmured, glancing up at Quinn through her eye lashes. "Do you think it's possible for you to," she swallowed, biting her lip as she smiled awkwardly, acknowledging the uncomfortableness of the segue, "sit under my desk like you did when you came to see me after that first shopping expedition?"

Quinn raised a startled brow, a blush rushing over her cheeks as she felt her body responding to the memory of hiding beneath the desk and giving Santana a blow job by soaking her panties. Listening to the usually so controlled woman having to struggle to maintain her composure as she spoke with her business contact while Quinn had worked over her cock and balls with her mouth and fingers had been such a thrill that the more traditional sex that followed had been a relief to the aroused heat throbbing in her core. "I... suppose it could be," she murmured, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips as she tried - and failed - not to smile at the memory. "If you help me back up after."

"I can definitely do that," Santana said, her lips quirking in amusement as she thought about what she was planning. "You see, I have a _special_ meeting that Grace is arranging for me with the head of a company that I've just acquired that I'd like you to listen in on. "

"You mean you _don't_ want a repeat of that evening?" she asked softly, watching the other woman as she casually slid the toe of her ballet flat along the inside of her calf, her smile widening as she watched her shiver.

She swallowed harshly, thankful that her dark skin made her blushes harder to see. "I... wouldn't say no," she admitted, licking her lips. "If you wanted to, of course."

Quinn smiled, enjoying the feeling of power she felt in that moment. "I might. I suppose we'll see."

Santana nodded, noticing the waiter coming over. "I suppose we will."

* * *

Dinner went fairly smoothly - though by the end Santana was about ready to explode from the teasing Quinn was enjoying employing on her. She was trembling so badly from pure _want_, it took her two tries to get the key in the car, but she was determined to do this right, to treat Quinn differently. If Quinn would _let_ her anyway. She sent a silent prayer of thanks up that the fresh snow they'd walked out of the restaurant to find blanketing everything gave her a good excuse to carefully remove Quinn's hand from where it was slipping higher and higher on her thigh, getting dangerously close to where her erection was painfully straining against her bindings. The pout she glimpsed any time her gaze drifted near the blonde certainly wasn't helping her relax either.

By the time they pulled into the drive, she'd managed to focus so intently on the road to get them home safely that her erection had thankfully faded by the time she unbuckled and walked around the car to open the door for Quinn. She _knew_ that it wasn't appropriate to expect sex after taking a girl out - even if she _was_ carrying her child. Every time she started to think maybe it would be okay, her conscious would play back Quinn telling her that she treated her like a whore and the pain in her voice shut the line of thought down dead. As she handed Quinn out of the car, swallowing at the dark shade of the woman's hazel eyes, she couldn't help but think that they were maybe on different pages.

They left the car in the drive and Santana dropped the keys on the entry table, not concerned about locking it as she secured the front door behind them. The house was quiet, none of the usual activity in the halls. Santana took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting the peace of the house calm her as she helped Quinn out of her coat.

"Let me walk you to your room," she murmured, draping their coats over the table with the keys, knowing that Kurt would fuss if she tried to hang them up in the hall - and inevitably did it  
_wrong_, though she hadn't yet figured out what she was doing different from him - again.

She could feel Quinn's eyes on her, nearly scalding her skin as they climbed the stairs and headed down the dark hall to Quinn's room. She could feel herself responding to the signals the woman was sending out and it took every ounce of self-control to keep herself from whimpering as her cock began straining her briefs again. For all that she never wanted a repeat of the other morning, Quinn was making it _decidedly_ hard.

Stopping at the door to her room, she swallowed to try and clear her throat before speaking. "Well, I... I had a nice night," she said softly, unable to keep from smiling at the awkwardness of the moment. "I hope you did as well. I, um, well... good night, Quinn."

Quinn's fingers around her wrist felt like a brand. "Don't I deserve a kiss good night?"

Santana swallowed hard. For a long moment, she didn't move, frozen in the hall as her determination warred with the audible desire in Quinn's voice. Finally, she turned, slowly, still not sure what had won. "I don't deserve one," she whispered, looking down at the ground.

Quinn shook her head, letting go of her wrist to cup her face in both hands. "Idiot," she whispered as she raised her face up until she could see her eyes. "Don't you remember it's my choice? _You_ gave me the chance to choose." Her eyes searched Santana's. "No one else ever did. So _I_ am choosing to decide that you deserve one. Even if you _are_ an idiot sometimes."

Her lips against Santana's destroyed the woman's resolve. Santana whimpered against her lips, her hands warm on her hips as she backed her into the door, kissing her as if she'd never see her again. She possessed her, pressing the length of her body against Quinn's, but somehow not pressing hard enough to put weight against their child sleeping under Quinn's heart. Quinn's arms wrapped loosely around Santana's neck, the nails of one hand almost idly scratching against Santana's scalp as they kissed.

When Santana finally pulled away, Quinn blinked her eyes open to look at her. "Stay," she whispered, keeping her eyes on Santana's. "Please."

Santana groaned, reaching down to turn the knob of the door, sending them stumbling into the room. "You make it so hard to stay on track," she mumbled against her lips.

Quinn's laugh sent a thrill along her spine as long fingers fumbled at her jeans, popping the buttons open. She felt different as they struggled with their clothes, tangling up in shirts and dresses and jeans while kissing and trying to cross the room. Her hands stroked along the hot hardness of Quinn's belly before she gently pushed her back to fall on the bed with only her soaked panties covering her heavily pregnant body. Quinn was smiling as she went down to her knees to struggle her boots off and free her legs from the tight jeans binding them up.

On her knees beside the bed, her face level with the intoxicating scent of her lover's arousal, Santana couldn't see any reason to get up. Her cock was a hard ache swooping out from her crotch in a lazy arc, but she ignored it as her fingers slipped beneath Quinn's cotton panties and pulled them away. A low groan broke from her throat as she pressed her lips against Quinn's inner thigh, trying to slow her desire to bury her face in that heady scent. She sucked at her inner thigh, marking the sensitive skin as Quinn's fingers threaded through her hair.

"Santana, please," she groaned, trying to tug her towards her core. "Please, Mistress," she tried.

"Not tonight," Santana mumbled, though she couldn't deny the shiver of arousal that surged through her at the title. She caressed Quinn's thighs with her hands before using her thumbs to part her swollen folds and pressed her thighs wide. "God, you're beautiful," she groaned before leaning in to stroke her tongue up from her entrance to where her clit was just peeking out of it's hood.

Quinn let out a short cry and tightened her grip in Santana's hair, pulling her into her. "Oh God," she gasped, her heart racing as Santana wrapped her lips around her clit and sucked. "Oh God..." Santana moaned, her lips vibrating against the hypersensitive nub at the sound and sending pulses of sensation shooting through Quinn's body. The pregnant woman's back arched off the bed as she panted desperately, already close to the edge. "Oh please... _please_," she panted, her breath coming in whimpers as Santana drew her orgasm out of her.

Her lips released her clit, dropping down to drink deeply of the fluids spilling from her core. She groaned at the taste coating her tongue before climbing up on the bed and pulling Quinn into a deep kiss, sharing the intimate taste of the woman's core. One of Quinn's hands found her almost painfully hard cock as she kissed her, pumping her roughly.

"Fuck me," she panted, her body still singing with arousal as she stroked Santana's member. "Please," she begged, letting go of her and rolling first to her side and then awkwardly onto all fours on the bed, her ass towards Santana and her dripping core exposed as her heavy belly and breasts hung down. "_Please_, Santana. M-my choice..."

Santana closed her eyes to try and calm her racing heart, knowing she'd burst as soon as she was inside of her if she couldn't calm herself. She swallowed hard, her tongue darting out to lick her lips still sticky with Quinn's juices as she got to her knees on the bed behind Quinn. Her hands caressed her ass as her nostrils flared to take in more of the rich scent of her. "A-are you sure?"

"For God's sake," Quinn groaned, dropping her head down on her arms, "I can't put it any more clearly, can I? I'm _asking_," she whimpered. "You said I had only to ask..."

It didn't take anything more than that. Santana slid inside of her so easily, she almost cried. Her hands were burning hot as they gripped her hips and pulled her back against her so that her head pressed hard against her cervix. She could hear Santana panting for control before she began slowly dragging back out, only to push back in. Quinn rolled her hips, almost riding her, needing the stimulation and the feeling of being filled.

Santana panted, already covered in a sheen of sweat as she pumped into her lover, the delicious friction almost too much to bear. She couldn't get over how well she fit her. How well she took her full length, almost as if she'd been _designed_ just for her. Designed to be her lover. _Hers_.

"Oh God," Quinn gasped out, her breasts swinging almost painfully with each desperate pound. Her eyes were clenched shut and jaw dropped open as she panted for breath against the sensations overwhelming her. She'd missed this. Missed the overwhelming _passion_ of being with Santana. Missed _Santana_.

"Mine," Santana groaned out as she started losing control, her thrusts becoming erratic as her balls drew up close to her body. "You're mine..."

"Yours," she whined in agreement, no other thought able to enter her mind as she felt the woman's cock twitch inside her before the warm fullness of Santana's load spilled into her, driving her over into her own orgasm.

This wasn't what they did in Santana's room on the big black bed with it's dark ropes. It wasn't the oddly intimate yet fraught with the inherent chance of being caught at any moment sex in her office. It was something else and as the two women collapsed onto their sides on the bed with Santana's semi-hard cock still held in Quinn's core, neither of dared to try and assign a name to it.

A couple of minutes later, Santana softened enough to slide out of Quinn with a rush of cum, making the pregnant woman whimper softly at the sensation of loss. Santana laid there for a long moment before sighing and starting to get up. Before she could stand, Quinn's fingers wrapped around her wrist. She followed the pale arm up to Quinn's face, watching her with a vulnerability that sent a jolt through Santana's heart.

"Stay?" she whispered, catching her lower lip between her teeth uncertainly.

It was as if the soft question had unlocked the tension that had been settling back on Santana's shoulders as she'd moved to get up. Swallowing hard and licking her lips as her heart started pounding like it had in the car as they were leaving for the movie, she nodded slowly. "Okay."

The little smile that had rewarded her made her want Quinn to ask her for something else, just so she could agree and see that smile again. Turning back to Quinn, she carefully pulled the covers down and up over Quinn before crawling underneath and settling against her backside. "Are you sure?" she whispered, slipping an arm around her just above the swell of their child.

She could almost hear Quinn's eye roll as the woman shook her head. "Will you stop asking me that please?"

"Okay," she whispered, smiling against Quinn's shoulder as let herself drift off.


	14. Chapter 14

Quinn woke relaxed and surrounded by warmth.

Santana's arm was a lazy drape over her side, hand nestled between her breasts beneath the sheet, her breath a warm caress on the back of her neck with a soft buzzing sound. She smiled slightly as she realized the other woman was snoring, still deeply asleep. She blinked her eyes open a moment later, trying to figure out what had woken her and barely keeping herself from jerking as she realized Kurt was standing beside the half-open curtains with a surprised and slightly disapproving expression on his face.

After a couple of seconds, she relaxed again, having gotten used to the man's unorthodox method of waking her. Raising a finger to her lips, she shook her head when he started to speak, unable to keep the little smile off her lips. He hesitated for a second, before nodding slightly, a tiny smile of his own hinting at his lips as he carefully headed out of the room, drawing the door softly shut behind him.

She sighed softly as she settled back into the soft warmth of the bed and Santana's loose embrace. She could feel her baby stirring in her womb and ran a hand over the bulge of her stomach, smiling at the feeling of a tiny hand pressing against her walls to slightly bulge her stomach. The smile grew at the recognition of the familiar dull ache of her core - a significant difference from how she'd have felt about it seven months ago - and the feeling of Santana's length nestled between her thighs, hard with morning wood.

She reached down to run her fingers over the thick, uncut head idly. It'd be so easy to shift and take her inside of her. She even knew it'd feel good after so long without the regular sex she'd come to expect during the pregnancy, but she hesitated. She hadn't had the chance to wake up before Santana since the morning after they'd conceived the baby growing inside her - and that had been far from a relaxing morning.

Carefully rolling over, she pushed the sheet that covered their nude bodies down as Santana mumbled in her sleep and flopped over onto her back. Everything about the other woman confused her. She was beautiful, that was beyond a doubt. Quinn couldn't deny the sexual attraction that had her lower lips dampening just by looking at her as she laid back snoring softly, though she didn't understand it at all. She wasn't attracted to women - or, at least, she never had been before she'd met Santana - but everything about her was feminine. With the exception of the massive cock jutting up from her crotch.

She moved to rest her head on Santana's thighs, one hand gently wrapping around Santana's member and stroking it slowly. It was easily the biggest she'd ever seen - when she'd first seen it, she'd actually be a little afraid that it'd be _too_ big for her - but somehow, it just... _fit_. She remembered the erotic feeling of the woman's breasts against her breasts or - more frequently once her belly started growing - her back as she filled her and it just got her wetter. It was just as if _everything_ about her was designed to arouse her. Or maybe it was just pregnancy hormones - she remembered how aroused she'd felt _all_ the time while carrying Beth after all.

Then there'd be a moment like the other morning, when she'd wake up to Santana doing nothing more than talking to her child and she'd want her more than ever. in the restaurant last night when Santana would look up at her and smile, her dark eyes sparkling with laughter and life. Or in the theatre when Quinn had reached for her and she was just _there_ - not complaining about her being too clingy or pushing her off.

Or like last night, when she could _hear_ how much she wanted to have sex, but resisted.

Quinn licked her lips, a little smile forming as she slid her thumb up the thick seam running along the bottom of Santana's cock before stroking it over her head. Last night, for the first time, despite them having - desperate, messy, _wonderful_ - sex, she didn't feel as dirty as she did when Santana left or sent her away after each time. Or when she was with a client. She just felt like a woman taking her lover to bed after a perfect night out instead of like a common whore. Just a little like maybe - _maybe_ - Beth wouldn't have been so ashamed of who she spread her legs for for once.

The first hint she had that Santana wasn't asleep any longer was the brush of gentle fingers over her stomach. "Enjoying yourself?" came softly a moment later, the normally vibrant voice thick with sleep, as gentle fingers continued to gently stroke her skin.

Quinn swallowed, a blush flooding her cheeks as she bit her lip, keeping her eyes focused on the way her hand was sliding along Santana's cock in slow strokes. "I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered.

Santana shook her head, her shoulders shifting in a slight shrug. "I don't mind. Not exactly used to waking up to a handjob though."

Quinn let out a tiny laugh. "Would you have preferred a blowjob?" she asked, glancing up at her through her lashes.

"From those lips?" she asked with a smirk. "I wouldn't say no. Have you been awake long?"

"Not long," she whispered, shivering as Santana's exploring fingers slipped down over the bottom curve of her stomach, brushing over the top of her mound.

"Mmm," Santana murmured, watching her with lust darkened eyes as pale continued sliding up and down her tanned shaft. She gently traced Quinn's outer folds with her fingertips, being careful never to penetrate her. "Want to trade morning favors?" she asked, watching her curiously. "Not really a traditional exchange, but that sort of thing will have to wait until our baby is born. I don't want to risk hurting them."

Quinn shivered, knowing a fresh rush of arousal was soaking her core at Santana's words. Her mouth felt dry as she yet again tried to keep herself from reacting from Santana's casual assumption that she'd still be there after the baby's birth. She never knew quite how to react, so instead of words, she just raised her top knee until her foot was flat on the bed and her folds were spread.

Santana's fingers slipped into her wetness with a soft groan. Quinn shuddered at the very different feeling of being filled by fingers instead of the cock in her hand. She kept her eyes locked with Santana's as she carefully slipped her head between her lips and suckled on the tip, making the woman moan as she watched her.

"Feels good," Santana whispered, her voice breathy as she licked her lips, eyes falling half closed but still watching her.

It was different than other times she'd pleasured Santana with her mouth. Besides the slow strokes through her core stoking the low fire in the pit of her belly, she wasn't used to her lover being so... _relaxed_. There was no urgency in Santana's movements as she reached down to brush Quinn's hair back from her face to allow her to better watch as she suckled her cock. But at the same the deliberately slow teasing that she occasionally enjoyed wasn't there either.

"You always get so wet for me," she murmured, her fingers curling to rub along Quinn's walls as she watched her, her free hand gently running through Quinn's hair. "I don't think any woman has ever responded to me like you do. Always ready." Her thumb brushed over Quinn's clit, making her moan around her cock. "Always willing. Just... perfect."

Quinn moaned, the sound vibrating deep in the back of her throat as she took her a little deeper into her mouth. She kept her lips tight against Santana's skin as she began a slow bob on the last two inches of the proud member, still watching Santana. Her hand smoothed over the soft skin, giving a gentle twist at the base with each stroke and keeping time with the feeling of Santana's fingers stroking and curling in and out of her core.

For several minutes, they laid like that, slowly drawing their climaxes higher and higher before they crashed over them. Santana's nostrils flared at the sight of Quinn's throat working to swallow as much as she could, a thin trickle of cum escaping her full lips to slide down her chin despite her best efforts. Feeling her walls clamping down on her fingers as she coaxed an orgasm out of the blonde was almost a bonus after that.

Saited, Quinn let Santana slip from her mouth, gently licking the remaining traces of cum from her cock before resting her head on her thighs again. Santana reached down to collect the trickle of cum from her chin on one finger, bringing it up for Quinn to suck clean. She continued gently running her fingers through Quinn's hair, just watching her.

"Quinn," she said softly after a long moment, "when you look at me... what do you see?"

"A powerful businesswoman," she said, the words falling from her lips almost immediately. "A leader of industry. A -" Santana's finger pressed against her lips stilled her.

"No. None of that." She shook her head, dark eyes watching Quinn, but a hint of something unusual in their depths that Quinn didn't quite understand. "When you look at me... like this," she gestured at her body, "what do you see?"

This time she was quiet for longer. After a little while, Santana's eyes slipped closed and a soft sigh escaped her lips. She was used to silence when she asked questions like that. It never heralded anything good.

"A beautiful woman." The words were a whisper so soft, Santana thought she imagined them as her eyes slowly opened to look uncertainly down at where Quinn was quietly watching her.

"A woman?"

"A _beautiful_ woman," she corrected gently.

She frowned. "Even with...?" She nodded down at where her now soft cock rested against her thigh.

Quinn laughed softly and pressed a delicate kiss to the side of the member. "Even with." She sighed softly, shrugging one shoulder with a tiny smile. "I can't explain it. Believe me, I've tried. But the you in my mind," she reached up to gently tap her temple, "is just... a woman. Who I somehow find incredibly attractive. Which is really confusing since I thought I was just into guys."

"It's the cock," Santana said with a soft laugh. "Confuses everyone."

"Or just you," she offered softly, biting her lip to hide the tiny smile trying to come out.

Santana considered it for a moment, cocking her head to the side as her eyes searched Quinn's for something. "Or me," she finally agreed softly, a slight smile beginning to curl her lips. "We should get up. I'm sure Kurt has breakfast waiting."

Quinn nodded, sitting up with Santana's help as the woman slipped her fingers from her core, sending a shiver through her. She sat there for a moment, trying to get her equiliberium with her eyes closed. She wasn't expecting the soft brush of warm lips over hers before the bed dipped with Santana standing. Her eyes shot open in time to see Santana waving at her with an impish smile as she sauntered out of the room with as much clothing on her body as she'd sent Quinn from her room with the first night she'd spent in the house.

* * *

"Are you sure this is okay?" Santana asked for the twentith time as she helped Quinn lower down on her knees to crawl under the desk.

Quinn rolled her eyes, kissing Santana's knee as she sat down and rolled her chair closer. "I could tell you yes again, but I'm getting the sense that you won't hear me," she mused, idly sliding her hands along the insides of Santana's thighs. "Have I ever mentioned how nice these short skirts you wear to the office are? Incredibly distracting."

"Why do you think I wear them?" Santana said with a smirk, leaning back in her chair to watch the blonde beneath her desk lightly scratching her thighs. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Distracting myself, Mistress," she said, glancing up through her lashes with an impish smile as she slid her hands under the skirt, pushing it up to Santana's waist.

"Naughty," she husked, lifting her hips to let her remove her briefs, settling back down onto the soft leather of her chair with her bare ass. "Keep that up and I'm going to give you a proper spanking when we get home."

"Is that a promise?" she asked, smirking up at her as she ran her nails over Santana's semi-soft cock to gently toy with the heavy sacks of her testicles.

Santana groaned softly as the intercom buzzed. "You are so lucky I've been looking forward to this meeting for as long as I have," she muttered before reaching over to press the respond button. "Lopez."

"Your eight o'clock is here, ma'am."

Santana's smile was vicious as she punched the button again. "Very good, Grace. Send them in." She leaned back, cradling her fingers in front of her chest as she watched the door.

Quinn shivered at the expression on Santana's face. "Who is it?" she asked softly, her nails lightly scratching across the inside of Santana's knee.

"A pest who doesn't realize how badly he's about to be crushed," she murmured in a cold, flat tone that didn't do anything for Quinn's apprehension. "I promise I won't allow anything to happen to you," she added softly, glancing down. "You can do whatever you need to to distract yourself during this meeting, but remember," she pushed the chair back, leaning down to pull Quinn into a quick, possessive kiss, "you are _completely_ safe with me. You're _mine_, Quinn, and I won't let _anyone_ harm you as long as that's true."

Quinn swallowed hard, nervous by Santana's words, her hands finding the heavy swell of her belly as the woman sat back up and scooted her chair back in. Santana leaned forward, settling her forearms on her desk as the heavy mahogany door groaned open. The first oddly familiar steps across the tiled floor sent a shiver of apprehension up Quinn's spine but she couldn't think of any reason she'd recognize the footsteps of anyone Santana might meet with.

"Thank you for seeing me," Santana said, her voice seemingly mild and pleasant but Quinn could hear the cold undertone lacing it. "Please have a seat."

"Damn," the first word made Quinn bite the side of her hand as her eyes went wide with recognition, a surge of nausea swelling up in her gut, "I knew I was good but who'd have thought I'd get such quality attention so fast?"

"Who indeed, Mr. Puckerman," Santana mused, sitting back in her chair as she regarded him. Quinn could just see the slight smile on her face from where she sat. "I must say I went to some trouble to acquire your company."

Quinn could almost see the cocky grin he was probably sporting or the way he'd run his hand over his greasy mohawk before leaning forward with a shrug. "Figure you just knew quality when you saw it and had to have it. Most babes are that way about the Puckmeister after all."

"The... Puckmeister," she murmured, the faint smile never leaving her lips. "And who might that be?"

He snorted. "Duh. That's me. Ain't nobody else badass enough for a title like that."

Quinn's fingers wrapped around Santana's cock, tugging more roughly than she really intended as she tried to calm her racing heart. Santana's nostriled flared slightly as she responded to her lover's touch, but she didn't otherwise react. Under the desk, Quinn licked her lips, trying to get moisture into her mouth and feeling idiotic for still having such as strong reaction to being in the same room with _him_.

"Badass," Santana mused, reaching up to tap her chin. "No... I don't think that's the right word. Hmm. I wonder what it was... oh well," she said, smiling slightly wider as she brought her computer to life, "I'm sure it will come to me eventually. Now, let's talk business, shall we?"

"Oh, I _love_ business. Especially with a hot ass babe like you," he added and Quinn had to wrap her lips around Santana's cock and suck hard to keep from screaming. "What kinda business we talking? Cause I gotta say... I tend to leave them screaming."

"Mmm, I'm sure you do," she murmured, the keys of her keyboard rattling on the desk above. "Let's see. You've managed to underbid your closest competitors by almost... _fifty_ percent in the last ten bids. _Impressive_, Mr Puckerman. I wonder how you managed that?"

He chuckled, the chair groaning as he leaned back. "You know how it is. Sometimes you just gotta lean the right way. Or on the right people, I guess."

"_Really_? And... _leaning_? That's all it takes?"

He chuckled. "You're in transportation, babe. I'm sure you know it takes a _little_ more than just... leaning."

"Mmm." There was another short burst of rattling keys. "I see here that six of the last ten were from companies that I happen to know used to have some of the best women in the business leading their sales teams. A little surprising that they generally left their companies on such short notice. Oh... but I see you managed to aquire quite a few of them in your company. That's quite a coupe."

"Well, what can I say?" Quinn shuddered at the sound of him sucking his teeth, barely keeping herself from biting Santana's cock. "Once you take a ride on the Puckasaurus, everything else just seems tame in comparison, you know? Or well, guess you don't." She could imagine the way he was smiling at Santana, all leering eyes and white teeth, and it sent a confusing surge of bile and anger through her. "I'd be more than happy to fix that for you though."

Santana's keyboard had been rattling again but at his words it stopped abruptly. "I have no doubt you would," she said dryly, her voice barely quivering despite the rough strokes Quinn was squeezing along her shaft. "Unfortunately though, I'm afraid that's not an option."

"Huh?" The chair creaked as he straightened. "What?"

Santana laughed. "I have less than no interest in your crude and unprofessional come ons, Mr Puckerman. Sorry. However, I _am_ happy to inform you that now that your company is a part of Lopez Enterprises, it will be subject to a _full_ and _very_ thourough audit and investigation on every level. You see, I don't tolerate corruption in _my_ company." She smiled viciously as she felt Quinn's nails digging into her thighs as she sucked her hard. "In fact I take great pleasure in _personally_ removing every bit of it."

"What the hell are you talking about?!" he yelled, the chair crashing to the ground as he shoved up out of it. Quinn cowered as the desk shook from his hands slamming into it, but Santana never flinched. "That's _my_ fucking company, bitch! You ain't got no goddamn right digging around in it!"

"That's where you're wrong, Mr Puckerman. You see, I _bought_ you. Lock, stock, and barrel. Your precious company is _mine_. And since you were so _completely_ inept at seperating your business interests from your personal ones, it turns out so is your lovely house and that very nice sports car you arrived in." Her eyes were flat and cold as she smiled at him. "Which, you may like to know, are being searched right now. You see, everything that's ever meant anything to you is mine now."

His hand flashed towards Santana, but there was a creak of a door opening off to the side before he could touch her. The sound of a hard soled shoe taking a single step into the room was loud in the sudden silence.

"Go ahead." Quinn didn't recognize the voice, but the fury made her breath came fast and a barely audible whimper escape her throat to be muffled against Santana's cock. "Just give me _one_ excuse to wipe your miserable existance off the face of earth, you filthy son of a bitch."

Santana's smile tightened. "I'd like you to meet my head of security, Mr Puckerman. Mr Anderson, maybe you have some idea what that term was that describes Mr Puckerman here? It seems to be escaping me."

"He's a goddamn rapist, ma'am." The sound of him spitting to clear the taste of the word from his mouth was clearly audible under the desk.

"Oh, that's _right_." The smile was gone. "You're the son of a bitch who raped the mother of _my_ child. And apparently some of the best goddamn women who worked in this business."

"Fuck you _and_ your little attack dog, bitch. You don't have _shit_ on me. I ain't never raped anyone in my goddamn life." Puckerman spat. The thick glob landed on Santana's cheek and slid down before she reached up to flick it away, her eyes never leaving him.

"No, you just force yourself on women who are telling you _no_," Santana said, narrowing her eyes at him. "I can see how you could be confused." The intercom buzzed and she reached over to hit the response button. "Yes?"

"They're here, ma'am."

"And they have what they need?" she asked, her eyes never leaving his.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Very good, Grace. Send them in." Santana smiled at Puckerman again. "For your information, _Puck_," she bit out, "we have no statue of limitations on rape in this state and my investigators spent time _personally_ finding and getting signed statements from your victims. Which," the mahogany door groaned as it opened, several booted feet coming into the room, "I was quite happy to do my civic duty by turning over to the proper authorities."

"Noah Puckerman?" Quinn could hear the boots coming closer and wrapped her arms around Santana's leg, letting her cock fall from her lips to press her face against her thigh.

"What the fuck?! Let me go, you son of a bitch!"

There was the sound of a scuffle and a thud as the desk shook from the officer slamming him down on the desk as the cuffs clicked closed on his wrists. "You're under arrest for the 2008 rape of Quinn Fabray, the 2011 rape of Sasha Burton, the 2011 rape of Jessica Malone, the 2012 rape of Penny Smythe, and the 2013 rape of Elizabeth Thomas."

"What the _fuck_ are you talking about?! All of those bitches wanted me!" The things on Santana's desk went crashing to the ground, but she didn't move, feeling Quinn shaking against her legs. "I didn't fucking _rape_ anyone!"

"You have the right to remain _silent_," the officer ground out after getting him pinned again. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as I have explained to you?"

"Fuck you! Do you know who I am?!"

"Yes, now do you understand or not?" Puckerman grunted as something struck him the side.

"F-_fuck_... goddamn son of a bitch. Yes! Okay! Fucking hell!" She could hear him struggling as she gripped Santana's legs and tried to stop the tears raining down her face. "I fucking understand! Goddamn it, I didn't _do_ anything wrong!"

"Just shut up," one of the other voices she'd heard in the scuffle growled as the desk jerked as he was yanked up off of it. "Thank you for your assistance, Ms Lopez. You're not hurt are you?"

Santana shook her head. "No, between you and my head of security, he never touched me."

"If you're sure. We'll see you in court for your testimony?"

Her smile turned cold again. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. There is very little that will make me happier than knowing he's locked up."

"You and me both. Goddamn assholes think they're God's gift. I've got a little girl and just the thought of an asshole like him touching her..."

"I fully understand, officer," Santana said. "Of course, all of his company's files are at your disposal if necessary to properly proscecute him."

"I'll let the geeks know," he said. "Thanks again."

"Of course." The mahogany door groaned closed. "Blaine, if you don't mind, I'd like some privacy."

"You sure you're okay, San?"

"I promise. Come join us for dinner tonight and see for yourself. I just need some time alone."

"Alright. Call if you need anything."

"Of course." The door to the side clicked shut before Santana gently pushed back from the desk. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, the hardness of earlier washed away.

Quinn shook her head frantically, wiping at her face but unable to stop the tears streaming down her cheeks. Santana slid from the chair, her skirt falling back around her to hide her lack of briefs as she wrapped her arms around her. She pressed her lips to her hair over and over as Quinn all but collapsed against her chest, sobbing brokenly.

"It's over," she whispered against her hair, rocking her gently. "It's over, Quinn. He'll never touch you or anyone else again. Never. I promise. He'll be punished for hurting you. I promise."

"Santana," she mewled, sobbing into her shoulder, hands weakly clutching at the woman's silk blouse as they knelt together behind the heavy desk and let the evening sun set over the city behind them.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: davinelyfavored69: The baby is referred to by the singular gender neutral version of "they". It's not a plural word in this case but the English language's attempt at a pronoun for use when the gender is not known or in question. As such, it can be singular or plural. It's kind of fun that way. :)  
**

**To everyone else: Sorry, no smut this chapter. ^_^;**

The next two weeks followed a pattern that was becoming increasingly worrisome for Santana. Quinn spent her time curled up in Santana's bed either clinging to the woman when she was there or alternating between crying and staring blankly at the wall while whispering to herself and stroking her stomach. She wasn't reacting at all how Santana had expected she might when she'd set things in motion to destroy the first person who'd really hurt the mother of her child and Santana had no idea how to handle it.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair before trying to focus on her computer screen again. She knew she should go into the office, but at the same time she didn't want to be so far away if Quinn needed her. A soft knock on the door of her study brought her attention up to see Kurt standing there with a concerned expression.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, half standing before he could shake his head and come into the office, closing the door behind him.

"No, no. Everything's fine or, well, status quo." He took a seat in the chair in front of her desk and crossed one leg over the other before settling his gloved hands over his knee. "So... what are you going to do?"

She groaned, dropping back into her chair as she rubbed her face. "I don't know. I thought it'd make her _happy_ for him to be arrested, not break her."

"Honestly, Santana, sometimes I truly wonder about your ability to properly process things," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Thanks," she said, bringing her hand down to glare at him. "I needed to be insulted. It helps _so_ much."

"Well, what do you expect?" he asked, raising a brow. "Look at her. Do you truly believe she's given herself time to process _anything_? She's what? Twenty? Twenty-one? Think about that for a moment!"

"What? Are you going to give me crap for being with a younger woman now?" she snapped. "I really don't need that right now."

"That's not what I'm saying at all." He shook his head, sighing. "Santana, have you ever just... _talked_ to her? She was _raped_ and had a baby from that rape at _fifteen_. She was a _child_, but she didn't break down. She was kicked out of her parents' home because of that baby, but she kept it and she _still_ didn't break down. For God's sake, Santana, she gave her child to her sister and _sold herself_ to be used - and let's admit it, she was likely abused as well - for the sexual pleasures of wealthy men. Of which you were one."

"I know all that," she whispered as her eyes dropped to her desk, feeling a familiar cold tendril of shame curling in the pit of her stomach at the reminder that she was no better than anyone else who'd bought her lover to play with. "I know that, Kurt. What do you want me to do about it? I don't have a magic wand or a time machine that will let me go back and change any of it."

He shook his head again. "You're not understanding. She finally feels safe enough that she _can_ break down. You gave her that. But now you have to decide what you're going to do to help her through it so she doesn't stay broken."

"I don't know how," she said, looking up at him with pain clearly visible in her eyes. "I don't know how to fix this."

"Then you'll have to find someone who knows her better than us to help," he said gently. "I know you've been working on something..."

"She'll leave," she whispered, watching her hands curling closed on the desktop. "She'll go, Kurt."

"If that's what she needs to do to finally heal," he said softly, uncrossing his legs to lean forward and cover her hands with his, "I think you need to accept that you might have to let her go."

Her breath shuddered as she shook her head, not looking up. He just stayed where he was, letting her have his support.

* * *

Two days later, Santana had managed to convince herself that Kurt could handle things at home and dragged herself into work. She was sitting at her desk, engrossed in the latest finance report from Boston when the intercom buzzed. Frowning, she reached over and pressed the answer button.

"Yes, Grace? What is it?" she asked.

The annoying crackle that had bothered her before had apparently been fixed while she was at home, because it was gone when Grace responded. "Ma'am, the special guests you requested have arrived."

Santana's brows raised in surprise. She hadn't expected them so soon. "A-all -" Her voice cracked on the word, making her cough to try and hide it. "Excuse me. All of them?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I see." She took her finger off the button for a long moment before pressing it again. "If possible, I'd like to speak with Mrs Saunders privately for a moment first."

"I'll ask, ma'am."

"Thank you, Grace." She sat back, folding her hands on the desk and hoping she didn't look like her heart was pounding a thousand beats a minute as she waited to see who'd walk through the door.

The moment the blonde woman walked through the door, Santana felt like she could have recognized her in a crowded room. Her hair was a little darker and there were the faint signs of wrinkles forming at the corners of her lips and eyes and she just looked in some unidentifiable way like she was more _tired_, but there was simply no mistaking who she was. Especially not when she smiled the way she was doing as she came close to the desk and held out her hand.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms Lopez." The voice was higher than she expected, too used to a lower, huskier tone.

"The pleasure's mine, I assure you. Please have a seat. I'm sorry to hear about your husband's passing, Mrs. Saunders," she said, coming around the desk to shake her hand and escort her to one of the chairs in the corner of the office. "I hope it wasn't too difficult of a passing."

"Thank you. Hank was a good man and a fine husband." She swallowed, reaching up to daub at her eyes with her fingertips. "But no, it was relatively fast after he was diagnosed."

"Fast doesn't make things not difficult," she said gently, sitting down beside her. "And with such a young child depending on you as well, it couldn't have been easy."

She sighed softly, looking up at Santana with a sad smile. "I love my niece very dearly, Ms Lopez. She's much of the reason I'm still here after he died. I'm grateful for your assistance with the funeral costs, but if you're trying to convince me to allow you to adopt her as your detective implied, it's simply out of the question no matter how much money you have to offer. I'm sorry."

Santana sat back, her eyes wide. "He _what_?"

"He implied you wanted to adopt her," she said slowly, watching Santana uncertainly. "That was why you had him contact us, right?"

"No, well... in a way, but not like _that_!" She shook her head, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Dammit, Dave, I didn't tell you to say stuff like that." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm sorry, Ms Saunders. Did he tell you anything about why you were coming here today?"

She frowned, shaking her head slowly. "All he said was you had some information for me about Beth. I just assumed..."

"I'm sorry again. I do have information for you," she said with a slight smile. "But not _exactly_ about Beth. Rather about her mother."

Mrs Saunders sat up straighter. "You know something about Quinn? She's alive?"

She nodded. "She's living with me actually."

For several moments, she sat there silently, letting that fact sink in. "And she never tried to contact us?" she finally whispered.

The pain on the woman's face made Santana's heart ache. "She couldn't have," she hastened to explain. "Quinn has been working for a company that hires women out to be surrogates for the wealthy. They," she hesitated, searching her mind for a way to explain without revealing exactly what her lover had been doing, "insist upon a degree of confidentiality that would have precluded her ability to contact you. In fact, that's partially why I'm the one speaking to you now and not her. She's unaware of my actions."

She frowned, blond brows narrowing down over green eyes. "And why are you doing this?"

"Because she's carrying my child," she said simply, "and, whether you approve of two women being together or not, I've grown to care for her very deeply. To the point, in fact, that I wish to call her my child's mother and not something as crass as a surrogate."

"I don't understand."

Santana sighed. "I've been trying to improve Quinn's life as much as I can over the last few months, but I know I'm... not good enough to fix everything. I tried by having Beth's father arrested for what he did to her - and several other women as well, sadly - but I think I messed everything up."

Her eyes were wide as she stared at Santana. "You had Puck arrested?" she asked softly.

She nodded. "His trial starts in a week but I've been assured there's no way he'll be able to wiggle out of it. Especially not since he's effectively broke now that I own his company and most of his private property as well due to a complete inability to keep them separate."

"Oh God," her hand drifted up to cover pale peach lips, "I can't believe it. Quinn... she wasn't there was she?"

Santana looked down at her hands, feeling ashamed. "He didn't know she was, but yes. I... I thought that'd help for her to know first hand that he'd been taken care of, but she just started crying and now..." She sighed, shaking her head. "I can't reach her. I don't know what I did wrong."

Mrs Saunders reached over and covered her hands with one of her own. "You didn't do anything wrong, Ms Lopez."

"Santana," she said, looking up at her. "Your sister is carrying my child and... you're family to me, so please. Santana."

She smiled gently. "Then you should call me Frannie. Our parents would never accept Quinn being with a woman, but I'm not our parents. All I'm interested in is my baby sister being happy."

Santana nodded, her teeth working over her lower lip. "That's all I want. I know I'm bad at showing it sometimes, but... I want her to be happy. Even if it's not with me."

"Do you think I can see her?" she asked.

She looked up in confusion. "Mrs... Frannie, that's why I had Dave bring you and Beth here."

She frowned again. "I don't understand."

"I... wanted to ask you and Beth to come back home with me," she explained. "To stay with Quinn and I. At least until the baby's born. It's a big house and there's plenty of room, I promise, and -" She found herself cut off by a finger pressed against her lips, green eyes looking at her with mild amusement.

"For one of the richest women in America, you seem very... real right now," she said softly. "I think I can see what would attract Quinn to you. But I must warn you that Beth is my first priority now. If things aren't good for her..."

"I understand," she said quickly. "Just... please. Quinn needs her family. And if she needs to leave me..."

"That's a bridge to cross when it comes," she said firmly. "I need to tell Beth and... actually," she looked at her consideringly, "perhaps you'd like to tell her? She'll be so excited to hear about getting to see Quinn again."

Santana looked nervous, but nodded. "Alright. If you think that's best..."

Frannie nodded. "I do. She's a five year old little girl, not a monster. Well... not most of the time anyway," she added, getting up and heading towards the door. Opening it slightly, she called softly. "Beth, sweetie? Come here. I'd like you to meet someone."

A couple of moments later, a little girl in a neatly pressed sundress with her fine blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail edged through the door with her finger caught in the corner of her mouth. She looked at Santana with wide greyish-green eyes as the woman moved to kneel on the floor near the chair she'd been sitting in. At Frannie's prompting, she raised a hand and waved timidly before edging closer holding tightly to her aunt's dress.

"Hi," Santana said softly, not moving towards her but letting her come to her. "I'm Santana. Your mommy's a very special friend of mine."

Beth's eyes seemed to get even wider at that. "You know Mommy?" she asked softly. "You're Mommy's friend?"

She nodded, smiling as she reached up to cover her heart. "She's my dearest friend," she promised.

"Does she hates me?" she asked, frowning sadly.

Santana shook her head. "Never. She doesn't hate you. I promise."

"Mommy's never home," she whispered, hiding herself half behind her aunt's leg. "Doesn't want to sees me."

"That's not true. She's been working so hard for you, sweetheart. But," she smiled, trying to reassure her, "she lives with me now and doesn't have to work as hard. If your aunt is okay with it, I'd like for you and her to come and live with us at my house. Would you like that?"

"With Mommy?"

Santana nodded. "With Mommy," she promised.

Beth gasped, her finger falling from her mouth as she tugged on Frannie's dress. "Aunt Frannie, can we? Please? I wanna live with Mommy! I want Mommy, Aunt Frannie!"

Frannie crouched down beside her. "We're going to visit first," she said, straightening Beth's bangs. "But if it's a good place, maybe we can live there. You don't mind leaving our house where Uncle Hank painted your room?"

She shook her head, her ponytail whipping back and forth as she frowned. "No. Uncle Hank's gone. It's all sad now. I don't like it anymore. I want Mommy."

Frannie pulled her into a hug. "Okay, baby girl. We'll go see your mommy." She looked at Santana. "When can we go?"

Santana smiled warmly, getting to her feet and holding out a hand. "Right now if you'd like. I'll take you myself."

* * *

Santana had a few words to share with Dave before heading out to the Lincoln with Frannie and Beth. There wasn't any point in having a private investigator on her payroll if he was going to be giving people the wrong impression of why she was interested in them. And giving Quinn's sister the impression she wanted to _buy Beth_ was a truly heinous mistake.

By the time they'd got down to the garage, Shane had already transferred the car seat from Dave's rental to the back of the Lincoln and they headed out soon after getting the rest of their luggage moved to the Lincoln's trunk. Beth just stared around with wide eyes from her seat between the two women as Santana watched her. She was fascinated by the child, knowing she'd come from her lover but unable to reconcile the girl's obvious sweetness with the man who'd fathered her.

It wasn't long before they pulled into the long drive, gravel crunching under the wheels. Even Frannie's eyes widened as she looked up at the house.

"You live _here_?" she asked softly, her voice awed.

Santana smiled with embarrassed pride. "All of my life. Now Quinn does too." She waited until Shane pulled to a stop and got out to come around and open their doors before helping Beth awkwardly out of her car seat. "And I hope the two of you will consider joining us. It's... lonely with only a couple of people in the house."

She led them inside, watching as Frannie scooped Beth up in her arms as they got out of the car. She knew she'd have to get used to having a child around with the baby coming so soon, but Santana still felt awkward having the little girl around. She couldn't get over feeling like she'd do something wrong every moment.

Kurt was waiting for them just inside the door. "Hello, Ms Lopez, ladies," he murmured, nodding as he smiled gently. "Welcome to the Lopez Estate."

"This is Kurt. He's the man who basically keeps my life in order and this place running smoothly," Santana explained. "Kurt, I'd like you to meet Frannie Saunders and Beth Fabray."

"Beth?" His eyes widened at the little girl's name. "Oh my gosh, Quinn's little girl?!" His voice squeaked dangerously close to a squeal as he stepped closer. "Let me see you! Oh, you're as absolutely gorgeous as your mother, you precious creature!"

Beth cringed into Frannie uncertainly, clinging to her aunt as Santana stepped between them. "Kurt, honestly, you're scaring the girl," she chided. "Let her see her mom first before you go adoring gay man on her. How's Quinn?"

A blush tinged his cheeks as he took a step back. "Of course. I'm terribly sorry, ladies. Mistress Quinn seems to be a little better today, but she still isn't showing any inclination towards getting out of bed."

Santana sighed. "Thank you, Kurt. Their things are in the car."

"Of course, Mistress," he murmured, stepping back to let her lead their guests up the stairs to the second floor.

"She's been inconsolable ever since Noah was arrested," Santana explained, gesturing helplessly. "I don't know what to do anymore."

"So you turned to her family," Frannie said softly, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "Understandable. I hope we can cheer her up a little."

Santana smiled sadly as she paused outside of her bedroom door. "I hope so too. Seeing her this sad makes my heart ache." Opening the door, she called softly, "Quinn? I've brought some people to see you."

"I don't want to see anyone," she mumbled, pulling the blankets over her head.

"You want to see them," Santana, insisted coming in and sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling the blankets down.

"Mommy! I want down, Aunt Frannie! Mommy!"

The sound of Beth's voice made Quinn's eyes shoot open and she pushed herself up slightly for the first time in weeks. "Beth?" she asked, her voice cracking with uncertainty.

"Mommy!" the little girl cried as Frannie set her on the ground to fling herself across the room, scrambling awkwardly into the bed. "Mommy!"

"Oh my God," she whispered, pulling Beth into her arms and hugging her tight, pressing her face to the top of her head. "Beth, baby, oh my God."

Santana watched quietly as the two clung to each other for a moment before moving to get up. Before she could stand, Quinn's fingers wrapped around one wrist, pulling her back.

Quinn was looking at her over Beth's head. "You did this?"

She swallowed, nodding before looking down at her hands. "I know you didn't want me to, but... I couldn't reach you."

Quinn's jaw worked as she swallowed back tears. "Thank you," she whispered, kissing Beth's head.

"You're welcome," she said softly, getting up and heading across the room.

"Mommy, you're all big," Beth said, leaning back with a pout. "Hugging's hard."

The sound of Quinn actually laughing sent a thrill of hope through Santana's heart. "I've got Santana's baby in my belly," she said, shifting to sit up to better hold her. "They'll be born soon and you'll get to meet them."

"Really?" she said, looking up at her mom with a smile. "I gets to be a big sister?"

Quinn glanced at Santana walking away, biting her lip with an uncertain smile. "Maybe. We'll see." She turned her attention back to Beth as Santana left the room. "I'm so happy to see you!" She looked at her sister for a moment before holding an arm out. "I've missed both of you so much."


End file.
